The Guiding Light
by Sarah Rose Serena
Summary: A legend surfaces & a past Audrey wasn't even aware she had comes back to bite, opening up a world of dangerous prospects. She had no idea the answers she was looking for would be so dark, so old, or so devastating. Neither did she understand the price.
1. PreLude

**The Guiding Light  
**

a HAVEN short story

_From Sarah Rose Serena_

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* * *

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**"_Prelude"_**

**T**he electricity went down with a clash of lightning, lights flickering out even as the strike lit up the night. The deep hum of a transformer blowing cut through the silence of the residential street. The inky sky crackled with static, ushering in another echo of thunder. Everyone within the seaside village of Haven was indoors for this eerie weather.

Up at the very top of Hallow Hill, overlooking a jagged corner of the New England coast, there was the old Cromwell Manor. With its boarded windows and rotten weatherboarding, expansive yard of overgrown weeds and an acre of wild woodlands stretching out beyond it, the dilapidated Victorian was often quiet, isolated, untouched.

Not tonight.

Audrey Parker was one of the few who were fueled to venture out into the brewing storm. Formerly a special agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, currently an unassuming officer of the Haven PD, Audrey was often drawn into bizarre and inexplicable mysteries. Maybe because she held an affinity for all that is paranormal. Possibly because, determined to keep the loneliness of her life at bay, she was constantly seeking excitement. She was not a troublemaker, no. She just happened to often find herself amidst trouble that was already brewing, like this storm here.

But tonight was different. Audrey didn't go looking for trouble on this night. No. Trouble found Audrey. And it found her up at the old Cromwell Manor.

It wasn't difficult to get in. But she was now pretty certain she'd have a hell of a time getting out unscathed.

It was nearly midnight. The deadline was coming up. They were all running out of time. But instead of being upstairs in the attic, preparing for the clock's upcoming strike, she was creeping down the creaky stairs, running her hand along the rotting banister, ducking to avoid a dangling cluster of cobwebs. Still, some caught in her golden locks, but she was too distracted to bother brushing them away.

There was someone inside with her . . . someone who shouldn't be here . . . someone who would stop her from doing what was necessary. She could feel him searching for her, drawing closer. It was the faint tingle under her skin that told her who was here. She was always aware of this one's proximity, though she had no idea why. Whenever he got near, she would know. And now, he was near, and he wanted to stop her.

Reluctance made her movements slow, thick, faltering, because she didn't want to harm him. But she couldn't let him get in her way, either. So what was she to do? He wouldn't understand. She'd already tried to reason with him. What could she do?

"Nathan?" she called through the hollow house once she'd descended into the first floor and was easing down one of the narrow corridors. Except for the racket of the storm raging outside, the manor was entirely silent. "Na-a-a-than . . . come out, come out, wherever you are."

She wasn't sure what she would do when he showed his face. In fact, she didn't want to think about it at all, because she knew she would do whatever needed to be done, regardless of how she felt about the peculiar lawman. There was no stopping this.

"Come now, Officer Wournos, enough playing around. I know you're there."

"Playing around?" a gravelly voice arose from behind her. Audrey spun on her heel to face the opening to the parlor and watched as he took a step toward her, leaving the cover of the shadows that lurked so thickly at the edges of every room here. His expression was set with a grim resolve, his arms out and the aim of his standard issue 9 millimeter steady on her. "Is that what we're doing?" he asked her, his tone tense and wavering. "Playing around?"

Audrey let out a small sigh of air as she moved into the room, wetting her lips. He countered her advance by sidestepping, keeping distance and worn down furniture between them. "Nathan," she said clearly, her voice schooled with a deceptively pleasant ring. Pleasant, and soft, and patient. "Nathan, you don't have to do this. If you would only try to understand—"

"I understand." He backed himself into an end table, knocking the rusted lamp over to crash onto the floor, when she tried to come closer. "I understand what you want and I understand that I can't let you do this."

Audrey stilled, showing him her hands in an effort to placate. But she couldn't help feeling another rush of disappointment. "Nathan, please. You know me."

"No." He shook his head in obstinate denial, firming his aim on the gun when it wanted to waver. "Not really."

She took another step, this time sideways, so as not to spook him again. She needed to be closer. If she could get her hand on him, just one touch would be enough. But he _knew_, and he wasn't having it.

Would pleading with him do any good? She couldn't help but wonder. Could she convince him? No. She knew the truth. So, why was she wasting time when it was so precious right now? Why not just get this over with?

_Because I can't_, a little voice in the recesses of her mind whispered. _I won't let you._

"You know what will happen if I don't do this, Nathan." She moved another step, small and insubstantial. She'd never reach him in time. This was useless. "Why don't you want me to save myself? I thought we were friends. Don't you care at all for me?"

The gun wavered again. But Nathan clenched his jaw and steeled his hold, more determined than ever. He let her take another step closer and he slanted to meet her, saying very tightly, very succinctly, "_You_ are not Audrey."

And she went for him, lunging swiftly across the meager remainder of distance to try to lay her hands on him. Instinct took over, Nathan squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out, and the ear-splitting noise of it was swallowed up by the echoing clatter of thunder that pounded down upon the manor at that exact second, mingling sounds.

As Nathan jerked away in shock, Audrey fell, whirling to the floor a moment before the blood began to pour.

~ 7 NIGHTS EARLIER ~

**A**udrey Parker woke in the dead of night to the grating tune of her incessantly ringing cell phone. Wavy golden locks splayed out across the pillowcase, falling in a fine sheet over her face as she rolled onto her stomach, fumbled blindly for her phone, flipped it open, and stuck it to her ear. Not that it mattered. Her eyes weren't ready to open yet anyway.

"Yes?" she croaked, licking her lips and swallowing. When no answer came, she propped up onto her elbows, frowning. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

A throat cleared on the other end of the line. "Uh, Parker—hey, it's me. Sorry to wake you."

"Nathan?" Audrey craned her neck up to glance at the bedside clock, which was shining an unholy 4:00 a.m. "You have _got_ to be kidding me."

"Yeah, I figured." He didn't sound too perky himself. "Look, can I get a ride back to my truck? I left it at the marina."

"A ride back to your truck," she echoed, running a hand through her hair to push it out of her face. "Why'd you leave it in the marina?" She wasn't exactly feeling so sharp at the moment. "Wait, never mind. Just—well—yeah, sure, I'll get you in a minute."

"Thanks," he drawled, sounding dryer than usual, while she clambered out of bed and wobbled for the bathroom. "Would you by any chance like to know where I'm at?"

Audrey stopped, pale brow furrowing. "Oh, yeah . . . I guess that'd be helpful, huh?"

"Come around the front of the ER," he said. "I'll meet you outside."

"The ER," she huffed, suddenly not so groggy anymore. "Couldn't you have led with this? Are you okay? What happened?"

"Nothing major," he murmured. "I'll see you."

"Nathan—" But he'd already hung up. "Well, fine." After that, it took Audrey all of two minutes to be out the door and jogging to her car. Sure, she was still in billowy drawstring bottoms and a skimpy camisole that didn't quite reach the rim of her waistband, and her hair was bouncing around her shoulders in messy waves, and her shoes were clad in slippers, but at least she'd grabbed the appropriate winter jacket on her way out the door. Dressing wasn't so pivotal. But hypothermia could put a definite kink into her week.

On the way to Memorial, Audrey couldn't help but wonder at her partner's odd behavior. He'd been acting strange around her for weeks now. Since that disaster of a surprise party last week for her birthday went down, he'd been especially distant. It was rankling. Sure, they'd only known each other for about six months now, but every day they'd been getting closer. She liked to think of him as a friend—her only friend, really. But something was going on with him. He was shutting her out and she wanted to know why. But she was too chicken to come right out and ask.

And now he needed a ride from the emergency room at four in the morning? Yeah, she was getting an explanation for this one, or he was walking.

When she made it to the hospital, Audrey swung the car through the parking lot and came to a stop in the empty ambulance bay, where Nathan stood waiting on the curb. At first glance, she wasn't sure, but as he ambled across the bay and around the idling car, she could see him just fine under the fluorescent lighting, and he looked in seriously bad shape.

As he popped open the passenger door and climbed in beside her, Audrey swallowed the lump in her throat and forced as much levity into her voice as she could muster. "Just _what_ in the world chewed you up and spit you out?"

Settling back into his seat, Nathan spared her a sidelong glare, as halfhearted as it was, before propping back against the headrest and shutting his eyes. "It's a long story."

_I'll bet_, she thought, but bit her tongue. He looked awfully tired. His left wrist was in a heavy-duty Ace wrap, his right eye was darkening, his lip was busted, and his ruddy complexion was looking a bit pasty. Also, when he cut across the bay, he'd tried and failed to keep his unmistakable limp hidden.

Then again, Nathan couldn't feel any of that, thanks to his hereditary sensory neuropathy condition. He couldn't feel pain, or pleasure, or temperatures, or touch. Any sensation of the physical variety was out for Nathan. Yet he looked like he was feeling pretty horrible. But maybe that was just the exhaustion eating at him. Either way, he probably wasn't up for an inquisition.

_There you go again, losing your conviction. You big wimp_, she thought sourly at herself as she pulled out of the hospital parking lot and onto the empty road. "Nathan," she said at long last with a soft sigh. "Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"No."

"But if you are—"

"I'm not," he cut in, not bothering to open his eyes or lift his head. "It's over with, Parker. Just let it drop."

_Oh, that's totally not in my nature._ But again, she held her tongue. Well, okay, for a few minutes at least. "You're seriously not gonna tell me?"

"No."

"Unbelievable," she muttered, shaking her head for herself as she tapped her knuckles impatiently against the steering wheel. Silence arose between them then, nothing but the lulling hum of the tires over pavement.

The winding road toward the cove of the harbor hugged the rocky shore so close that it always made Audrey nervous to drive along at night. So she was already pretty tense, eyes extra watchful, when she spotted someone standing in the road up ahead.

"Uh, Nathan?" she called, straightening in her seat, closing her knuckles around the wheel, and easing off the accelerator. They were coming upon it fast, but she wasn't sure if she could believe her eyes or not. The image was wavering, like maybe she was just seeing shapes in the darkness. She wouldn't be sure until the headlights hit it. "_Nathan_?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you see that?"

"See what?" he asked, lifting his head and following her gaze. But he was moving slow, too slow, and they were running out of space. "Parker? See what?"

"That!" she yelled, just as the car swerved around a bend and the headlights flashed over the pale figure of a little girl. With no time to think, Audrey jerked the wheel, swinging the car into the other lane as she slammed on the brakes. They skidded across the road, away from the drop-off, but toward the ditch on the opposite shoulder, dipping in at the nose before she got the car to a halt.

"Jeez, Parker, what in hell are you doing?" Nathan exclaimed, still gripping the handlebar above his passenger window. His other hand had planted on the dashboard just in time to prevent his already-abused face from meeting it. "Have you lost it?"

But Audrey couldn't answer him. Chest heaving, heart ramming itself against her ribcage, she pried her hands from the wheel and unlatched her seatbelt before bolting out into the street. But there was no little girl in a raggedy white dress with wet rattails for hair standing in the middle of the road anymore. They were completely alone.

Moving a lot slower, Nathan pulled himself out of the slanted car and ambled up the incline of the ditch after her. "Parker?" he called, reaching her side as Audrey spun in circles, standing on the reflective yellow line that ran through the center of the asphalt, searching every direction for what she'd have sworn was there.

Was she hallucinating? What the hell _was_ that?

"Parker?" Nathan was still calling to her, trying for her attention. He had her upper arms in his grasp, forcing her to face him, concentrate on him, while he studied her wild expression in concern. "You all right, girl?"

Drawing in a deep breath, Audrey let him still her. She tore her gaze away from scanning the shore and focused in on Nathan's muddy green eyes, his dark furrowed brow, the lines that framed his wide mouth, the dimple in his chin, the prominent nose. His dark bangs were dropping over his forehead, and her fingers itched to dust them aside, only because she was accustomed to him keeping it cropped shorter than it had gotten recently.

She'd always known he was handsome, but it'd taken her a long while to figure out why, because it wasn't a given thing. To fit his lanky body, his face was too long, narrow, and his brow too low over his eyes. He did have nice eyes, though. Very nice eyes. And his mouth was enviable. Luscious was a word that could be used to describe it. But no, Nathan's attractiveness wasn't an obvious sort. It took her a few weeks of spending time with him to find out what was missing. When he smiled, laughed, when it was genuine, which was rare, it shined. Then she could see why.

"Parker?"

Now she was standing in the middle of the road, in an ungodly predawn hour of the night, after almost crashing her car, because she'd sworn she saw a child standing in the road, a child that was now nowhere to be found, and admiring her partner's looks.

Yup, she's lost it, all right.

"Nathan," she said in a quiet, calm, totally rational voice. "I suppose you didn't see anyone standing in the road just then, waiting for us to hit them, did you?"

Hesitantly dropping his hands from her arms and straightening to his full height, Nathan narrowed his eyes down at her for a long moment, judging her mood. When he realized she was serious, he rubbed a hand along his jaw and cast a skeptical look around them. At last he said, "Nope."

"Oh." Taking another deep breath, Audrey tugged at the lapels of her jacket, wrapping it tighter around herself against the freezing September night wind coming off the sea. "Right, okay then."

With no further ado, they climbed back into the car and started on their way again. The rest of the drive to the marina was tense and silent. Nathan spent it sneaking furtive glances at his partner from under long lashes and a deeply creased brow. Whereas Audrey spent it gnawing at her lower lip, going in useless circles in her thoughts as she floundered for an idea.

When she got him to his old blue pickup, where it waited in a lot at the marina, Nathan hesitated halfway out of the car, looked back, and opened his mouth to speak. But when their eyes met, he pressed his lips together and settled for a solemn nod of his head.

The two parted ways for the night without a word between them, both left with a lingering sense of unhappiness, and a sliver of puzzled worry that wouldn't be quelled.

* * *

_TBC_


	2. Icy InVitation

**"_Icy Invitation"_**

**T**he next day, Audrey found herself lounging across a bench near the town's garden cove, looking out over the endless expanse of crystalline waters that stretched out beyond the shore of rocks before her. The grass around her was still a fresh summer green. But, even as bundled-up as she was, with the warmth of the sun helping to warm her, nothing could combat the chill in the air. It would snow soon, all the trees would be barren for the length of the season, and the grass would lose that vibrant shade it was still somehow managing to cling to. The geraniums were already wilting.

The blonde let out a wistful sigh as she scanned the various plants that hedged the looking cove, finding all that vivid color dulled. It was such a sad time of year all the way up here in Maine, saying goodbye to summer, battening down the hatches for the coming kill zone of winter. There didn't seem to be much autumn in coastal Maine. It just dived straight into snow and frost.

She sat for a good while longer before Nathan joined her, folding himself onto the bench beside her and handing over a foam cup of hazelnut coffee that warmed through her nose and awakened her taste buds with just the steaming aroma of it. When she took the coffee, their fingers brushed, and Nathan eased himself even farther down the other end of the bench, keeping an inordinate amount of distance between them. Not exactly subtle, but she had no idea how to broach the subject without getting blown off again.

"Got a case," he told her, casting his attention out to the lapping water. "Johnny Anderson over on Sycamore was found dead in his home about an hour ago. The scene's waiting."

Audrey took a sip of her coffee, savoring the sweet tang of cinnamon on her tongue as she gave him a sedated nod and rose stiffly to her feet. "Let's get over there then."

As she tromped through the grass to where his blue pickup was parked on the shoulder of the road, she tried to shake off her melancholy. She could feel him following, intently lagging three paces away. The itch between her shoulder blades told her his eyes were on her. Not that she needed it to. He was always watching her nowadays, staring whenever he thought she wasn't paying attention. Staring, quiet, distant, didn't want to risk touching her, and didn't want to be too close if he could help it. She was really getting sick of all this weirdness between them.

She'd have to confront him sooner or later.

Meanwhile, Johnny Anderson over on Sycamore was a 27-year-old middle school teacher in the English department at Haven I.S.D. He lived alone, had no living relatives left, and kept personal ties to an absolute minimum, meaning he had no friends and wasn't involved with anyone.

He died of asphyxiation, saltwater brimming in his lungs, rigor mortis already setting in. For all intents and purposes, it looked as if he'd drowned. Except his body was found on his living room floor, nowhere near the ocean, or any water whatsoever for that matter, and his clothes were completely dry. No signs of forced entry into the house, no witnesses, and no neighbors noticed anything suspicious.

Just the sort of case Audrey Parker had come to expect in this peculiar town.

~ HAVEN ~

**T**he next night, something strange happened while Audrey was in the bathtub. She was lounging under the water, trying to unwind, one heel propped up on the rim of the basin, hands gripping the edge on either side of her, absentmindedly testing the capacity of her lungs, while she mused.

They'd gotten nowhere on the Anderson death, and nothing freaky had happened so far to move things along, which was . . . weird. From her brief time in Haven, she'd grown accustomed to all the patterns of The Troubles. But this one was different. There was something they were missing, some link she couldn't fathom. She could feel the prospect of an idea, the suspicion, her intuition simmering beneath the surface, but she couldn't quite catch it yet.

Oh, well. Something else was bound to happen. Until then, though, their energy might as well be directed toward other troubles. God knows there were plenty enough to go around this week.

But she probably jinxed herself by thinking it, because just as she was about to open the drain and head to bed, there was a knock on the door, and Audrey's instincts kicked into gear. An alarm went off inside her, faint and unclear, but definitely there. Tightening her hands over the edge of the tub, she went to pull herself up out of the water. That was when she felt it, the icy touch that brushed across her collarbone. The warmth of the water seemed to be sucked away.

"Oh, frak!" she hissed, and her eyes widened when her breath came out in a visible cloud. Locking her elbows, she pushed herself up out of the icing water even as it stung her skin. But before she could get a leg over the edge, a pressure cinched around her waist and jerked her down.

With a surprised shriek, Audrey's grip slipped and she went under, smacking into the bottom of the basin hard enough to bruise. Slush went slopping across the tile floor as she thrashed, struggling against the unseen weight pressing her down. Solidifying ice clung to her skin, wanting to encase her, no matter how much she fought. There was nothing to beat at. Her arms went right through the pressure. She couldn't grapple. But she couldn't push up through it, either. She was completely trapped.

Slush filled her lungs, making her choke, and the more she coughed, the more she sucked in. It felt as if her chest was going to implode. It was unbearable. Panic threatened to take over, but she pushed it back, steeling her mind with resolve. A grain of warmth stirred in her chest, spreading out like wildfire, twining through her stomach, basking a touch like sunshine down her limbs, fighting off the mind-numbing frost.

Able to move through the cold pressure, floundering blindly, Audrey found the edge of the tub again and clasped with all her strength, yanking herself up out of the water just long enough to get out a piercing scream before she was dragged back under. The chill made a binding touch that wrapped around her chest, pinning her arms to her side, forcing her back into the bottom of the basin.

Kicking out was useless, and she was losing feeling in her body, losing strength. Her eyes cracked closed against the ice trying to coat them just as the bathroom door burst open, splintering the wood. Then someone was calling her name, but it was too muffled through the ice, too far away.

The plug ripped from the drain, sending the block that was still forming around her legs crackling into a web of dangerous icicles. The faucet switched on and steaming water began pouring down onto the slush, melting her bindings. The swift contrast was excruciating, a lethal shock to her already shaken system, but it softened the ice enough to allow a pair of arms to dive in, wrap around her, and pull Audrey free of the bathtub.

Though it felt like an eternity, it was all over within a couple of seconds.

She was carried out of the freezing bathroom, into the bedroom (slash living room, slash kitchenette) of her tiny studio rental, and dropped into an armchair just long enough for the bedspread to be ripped off of the mattress. She was promptly cocooned within it. _And if this doesn't bring back memories_, she thought with a morbidly wry quality to her ill-timed humor, while she dropped onto the sofa and pulled into someone's lap.

Hands were running up and down her arms over the blankets, and an extraordinarily warm body encased her, but all she could feel was the sharp icicles her golden hair had become as they pricked at her cheeks.

"Audrey?" he was calling, gravelly voice too high with panic. She must've been quite a sight—naked, crispy, and blue. Violently shaking as she clung to consciousness with dead fingertips. But she really couldn't give a damn. She was too busy trying to convince herself that she was, in fact, still alive.

"Nathan!" she wanted to say, but her lungs were frozen, her throat, too, and her tongue. _Well, that was fun,_ she inwardly drawled. _It's okay. I'm fine._ But she doubted it did much good. Unless he was keeping some monumental secrets from her, her partner wasn't exactly telepathic.

But he _was_ talking to her. She struggled to understand his words as he jostled her around, putting his cell away (was this really the best time to be on the phone?) and scooping her up into a firm grip. Then they were moving toward the door.

A piece of the blanket slipped between them, and Audrey took advantage of the small freedom, curling her stiff fingers around the lapel of Nathan's jacket as she burrowed into his incredible warmth. It didn't make much of a dent with all the layers between them, but it was something.

Now that she was confident that she would survive, her darkening mind was already working out what had happened, what it could mean, even as she slipped away. The familiar chug of his old pickup's engine filling her ears was the last she was aware of.

~ HAVEN ~

**W**hen Audrey finally returned, it was to find herself trapped within the regrettable confines of a hospital bed, while the very uncomfortable sensation of a saline IV hooked into the back of her hand stirred her into awareness. It was far from pleasant, yes. But at least she felt alive and securely attached to her body again. The relief that sang through her was nearly palpable.

But the memory of her panic resurfaced, that damnably halting fear and uncertainty that rose whenever she knew the odds were against her survival. It lodged like a sickness in her throat, pricking at her eyes until she had the urge to tear up. Not that she would. Maybe another time, when she was alone and locked away where no one would know, she would let her emotions reign. But not right now. So she shoved all that distress away and coated herself in a sedated sort of optimism.

Opening her eyes, Audrey scanned her surroundings, taking it all in. The sunlight streaming through the window was of the fresh early morning kind. The corridor outside her room was eerily quiet. And a hardback chair had been pulled away from her bedside and propped in one far corner, which was where she found Nathan.

"Hey," she said, surprised at how soft her voice came out. She was expecting to croak. But, really, she wasn't feeling half as bad as one would've thought. "You awake?"

"Am now," he murmured, rubbing a hand down his groggy face as he unfolded himself from the chair and came to his feet, stretching. "How're you feeling?"

Not having to force the lazy smile that curved her lips, Audrey ran her hands down her blanket-shrouded stomach and let out a contented sigh. "All thawed out."

"Glad to hear it."

"You've been here all night?" she asked, trying to untangle the cords and tubes attached to her so she could leverage herself upright. It wasn't working so well.

Nathan hesitantly crossed the distance between them to hand her the remote that controlled her bed. "Not consecutively."

Lifting the motorized top half of her bed, Audrey looked up into his expressionless face and couldn't help the flutter of disappointment when he immediately averted his attention to the window. "Thanks," she said softly, shoving away her displeasure and the awkward feelings his distance stirred up. "Thanks for the rescue, too. That was awfully convenient timing. If you hadn't been there when you were . . ."

"Yeah," he murmured. "No problem." He let a moment of stillness go by between them then cleared his throat and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "So, what was that I walked in on, anyway?"

"Beats the hell out of me," she said on a sigh. "It was like . . . well, I don't even know what it was like. You saw it. How would you describe it?"

But, put on the spot, Nathan just shook his head, meandering over to stand in front of the window and gaze out in thought.

"Could it have something to do with the Anderson case?"

"He drowned in his living room," he countered, but his tone wasn't entirely dismissive. "There was no evidence of hypothermia. Doc said the water in your lungs had crystallized. It was lucky they were able to fix you up as they did. For a minute there, it wasn't looking so good."

_Then maybe it's related to the girl that wasn't really in the road the other night_, she wondered, but kept her mouth shut. She wasn't sure what to make of that night, and until she did, it wasn't something she wanted to get into.

"I better head to the station," he said suddenly, turning away from the window and shifting for the door. "I'm glad you're okay, Parker."

Audrey's heart went up into her throat. She didn't like this. She didn't like this one bit. "Wait," she called before she could stop herself, and when he hesitated in the doorway, looking back at her over his shoulder as if it pained him, she could've slapped herself. "Nathan, I—"

But before she could get out anything more, the Teague brothers were bustling into the room with an air of demanding cheer, Dave carrying a bouquet of posies, and Vince with a Get Well Soon balloon, and Nathan was slipping silently away. Summoning up the energy for pleasantries, Audrey focused on greeting the bungling newspaper boys and forcing away the snarl of unpleasant emotion attached to her mysteriously bothered partner. Still, she couldn't shut out that niggling sensation that something was wrong between them, and she wouldn't feel better until she fixed it.

* * *

_TBC_


	3. eVil Is Going On

**"_Evil Is Going On"_**

**N**ightfall welcomed a volatile thunderstorm that swept in off the ocean without warning. The station was empty but for Audrey and Nathan, who were camped out in their office. They spent the last hour sprawled on either end of the leather sofa, picking at their respective cartons of Chinese takeout. Neither had said a word, and the intermittent silences, broken only by the clashing of the storm, were anything but companionable.

Trying to repress her inner agitation, Audrey set her stir fry aside and curled herself over the armrest of the sofa, tucking her head into the crook of her arm, just to rest her eyes, brainstorm a bit. But she must've fallen asleep, because the next thing she was aware of, the storm had worsened and she was alone on the sofa. Easing upright, she found him behind the computer screen at his desk.

"Come take a look at this," he said when he noticed her awake. "I've been going through archives from the Haven Herald, checking up on anything tagged for the Anderson family."

"Yeah?" she murmured sleepily, climbing to her feet and stretching out the kinks in her joints before making her way to him. "Find anything interesting?"

She rounded the desk to look over his shoulder at the screen, but when her hand landed on his shoulder, Nathan went rigid. "_Ahem_." He cleared his throat, pushing his chair back to get out of her way. "It seems our mysterious drowning vic has a history with accidents involving the water."

Audrey let her hand drop as he moved out from under it, straining to keep her attention pointed at the screen when all she wanted to do was turn and face him. With her head turned away, though, he couldn't see the hurt look she was sure flickered over her face.

Focusing on his find, she leaned down onto the edge of the desk to scan the aged headline article. "'Johnny was the only witness to the accidental death of nine-year-old local, Aria Anderson, his younger sister,'" she read, thought process already whirring to life. "Playing in the woods when she went over the edge of the bluffs, body swept out to sea, never recovered." She straightened then, stepping back out of his workspace to perch on the end corner of the desk. "Sure sounds like a connection."

"Not that we know what it means," he muttered, tossing the pen he'd been playing with down onto the desktop as he tilted his chair back and propped his ankles up onto the edge. "The account of the girl's disappearance relied solely on twelve-year-old Johnny's testimony, of course. All the authorities had to go on was his word. But no one saw any indication he was lying."

"Even if he wasn't, it's still an experience that would foster a grudge, don't you think?"

Nathan gave her an answering nod, but Audrey was already staring off into space in thought, biting on the capped tip of the pen he'd discarded a moment before. "No need to look so enthralled," he told her, one corner of his mouth curving. "We've still got nothing."

"_Au contraire_," Audrey countered with a cute tilt of her head. "We've more of an idea than we had five minutes ago."

"Still . . ."

"Hey," she said suddenly as an unpleasant inkling hit her. "Was there a photo of the girl included in the article?"

"Um, hold on—yeah. Why?"

"Bring it up for me." Reluctantly, she slid off the corner of the desk and made her way back around, crouching beside Nathan in his chair as he pulled up the fuzzy sepia-toned headshot pasted on the front page of the issue. _Crap_, she thought, feeling the air leave her lungs with a worried whoosh. "That's what I was afraid of."

"Parker?" he called, swiveling in his chair to face her. "You look like you've just—"

"If you say _seen a ghost_, I'm gonna have to slug you."

That raised his brow. "O-o-okay. You look freaked. What's up?"

"I know what's going on."

"You do," he drawled, eyes searching her impassive face as he towered over her from his seat. "Mind sharing with the class or should I just guess?"

"It's the girl, Aria Anderson. I think she killed her brother. And I think she was behind the ice age in my bathtub the other night."

Nathan's confounded expression relaxed, bringing his muddy green eyes alight as comprehension dawned and a grin quirked at his mouth. "A haunting, that's what you're talking about?"

Audrey nodded. "I know how it sounds, okay. But that girl," she said, pointing at the photo still on the screen. "She's the one I saw standing in the road that night I picked you up from the hospital. When we almost crashed? I was swerving to avoid her."

"Now how come I didn't see anyone in the road that night?" he asked her in a voice free of inflection. "And if Johnny Anderson was some sort of revenge killing, why would _you_ be the next target?"

"I don't know." Audrey rose out of her crouch then. "But it makes sense—well, more sense than anything else right now, anyway." But when she saw the doubt in his eyes, she couldn't help but bristle. "Oh, come on. You have to admit, we've seen stranger things together, and I haven't even been in town long."

Releasing a quiet sigh, Nathan arched his chair backward again, eyeing her closely with a closed-off expression she couldn't decipher. "You're right about that."

Suddenly discomforted under his inspection, the blonde shifted awkwardly, folding her arms across her chest, frowning for no good reason. "Thank you."

"So what do you want to do next?" he wondered, a familiar wry note creeping into his tone. "I don't think there're any exorcists nearby. But maybe we could find a psychic and hold a séance—try to end this peacefully?"

Smiling, Audrey twirled around the corner to get out from behind his desk. "You're hilarious, Wournos. Really, I'm all aflutter with amusement."

He shrugged, unable to conceal his grin. "I try."

A bit longer with the back and forth and a little more research later, the two detectives were ready to call it a night, and were actually on their way to the door together when a clash of lightning struck close by, zapping out the electricity.

"Probably blew a fuse," he said a few inches from her back. He sounded so close that Audrey had to bite down on the urge to reach for him in tactile reassurance. "I'll go check the breaker."

"Right, yeah, you do that." A zing of anxiety went up her spine. "And Nathan," she called, twisting toward his direction in the pitch darkness as she felt him move out into the bullpen. "We'll just pretend I didn't jump like a startled cat a second ago, okay?"

The responding warmth of his chuckle soothed her nerves. "It goes to my grave, Parker. I'll be right back."

Cramming down the badness vibe she was tapped into, Audrey eased her way through bullpen and into the outer corridor, where the wide-paned windows let in a bit of illumination from the moon. Not much, but it was something.

She was standing with one hand pressed flush to the glass when the spectral Aria Anderson flickered into existence at the very end of the hall, flashing a translucent, gaunt, and creepy as hell visage in ivory and obsidian that had Audrey taking an involuntary step away, ready to run for it, should her instincts get the better of her.

Bothering to draw her piece on a phantom child wouldn't do any good. But she was ill prepared for this. How to combat a pissed-off phantom? They'd already had one run-in and that hadn't ended well for Audrey. She couldn't get it out of her head, the suffocating feel of that unseen and intangible pressure holding her down as the water froze and burned across her bare flesh. It was a miracle the encounter hadn't left major damage.

Then again, maybe it wasn't a miracle. Maybe Aria Anderson hadn't actually been trying to kill her. Maybe that was just this creepy little dead girl's version of rattling chains, huh? Glancing outside at the raging storm, Audrey let out a heavy sigh. Well, it wasn't like she had anything better to do than find out.

"I know who you are," she said, not bothering to raise her voice. The image of the girl flickered, fading with transparency, before she solidified midway down the hall, closer now. "Can you talk to me?"

The girl flickered again, and when she reappeared this time, she was standing directly across from the window, less than three feet of space left between them. "Yes," the girl answered. "Now that you're listening, I can."

_So I wasn't listening before?_ Audrey shifted until she fully faced the flickering phantom, putting her back to the window and clutching the edge of the windowsill behind her in a death grip as she struggled for her calm. "Are you Aria Anderson?"

The girl nodded her head, making wet ropes of dark hair bounce where they hung around her pasty face. She looked like a drowned rat. Correction: a zombified drowned rat. Audrey was disconcerted, to say the least, between the ghost that had her cornered and the sporadic clatter of thunder and lightning behind, over, and around her.

"You murdered your brother," she said, sounding oddly neutral to her own ears. "Why?"

Aria flickered again, the transparency of her strengthening and lessening erratically with the subtle shifts of her facial expressions. "He tricked me. He told me we were going to see the fireworks. But he lied."

"Did he push you over the cliff?"

"No. But he might as well have."

"What do you mean?" Audrey asked, glancing down the shadowed corridor, on the lookout for any sign of Nathan's return.

"I was special," Aria told her. Her white sundress was grungy with dirt and stains, torn and ripped, and hung as sodden around her emaciated silhouette as her hair. Tucked in the crook of her little arm was a ratty gray rabbit made of yarn. "Everyone knew I was special. That's why Johnny was jealous. He wanted to get rid of me." This time, when she flickered, her wabi-sabi face returned with a mask of pure ire. "He deserved to know what it felt like."

"Why now?" Audrey needed to know. She jolted when another crackle of lightning struck at her back. She wanted to start hedging sideways toward one of her avenues of escape. But would that do any good? Or would it trigger trouble? "After all this time," she said. "Why go after Johnny now?"

Aria rolled her sunken eyes at the woman. "I couldn't before," she answered. The "duh" was implied with her tone. "I've been stuck." And like a switch had been flipped, the girl offered Audrey a radiant smile, and her deathly white face came alive, leaving behind (if only for a split-second) that look of the abased porcelain doll. "But now that you're here, I'm stronger. You're like me—special. You're supposed to help me."

Audrey was backing her way down the corridor now, and the ghost was following, matching the blonde step for step. "Then why did you try to kill me?"

A look of almost theatrical contrite twisted the girl's features. "I didn't mean to, honest. I just got so _mad_. You wouldn't listen!"

Thunder exploded above their heads.

"What do you want from?" Audrey asked in a perfectly level voice, even as her heart wanted to tear from her chest with anticipation. She was nearly to the entryway. "How is it I'm supposed to help you, Aria?"

"We have to stop him."

This was getting more confusing by the second. "Stop who?"

"The Gravedigger," she huffed, as if Audrey ought to have known that already. "He killed me. He's the one Johnny took me to when he tricked me. The Gravedigger hates ones like us. He hates our light. He wants to smother us. And he will."

"I don't—"

"You have to, Audrey Parker! You have to."

"Why?"

"He'll come for you," she warned, suddenly far too menacing to really be just a little girl. "And the one that comes after you, too . . . unless we stop him now."

They were at the edge of the bullpen now, the exit was in sight, though she had a feeling that wasn't the salvation it should be, and Audrey only had one question left. "Who's the Gravedigger?"

Aria huffed again, stamping her foot with agitated impatience, and the flickering that proceeded revealed flashes of what the girl really looked like when she died—short ponytail, tan skin, worn sneakers, white-washed denim cutoffs, bright pink summer tee. No antiquated dress and stuffed animal or bows in her hair. So she had to wonder, why was the girl projecting a fake? And if the visuals were lies, did that mean her words were as well?

"Aria," she reiterated. "_Who_ killed you?"

"I already told you!" the phantom hissed, flickering out and back again as she circled Audrey, popping out one place, popping in another, keeping the blonde spinning to try to keep the girl in her sights. "_Ugh_, you're useless!"

"Aria—" But Audrey couldn't get any further, because with one last stamp of her foot, the ghost flickered out, and the nearest window imploded, sending shards of glass flying inward as an errant tree branch smashed through it, tangling in the massacred blinds. Audrey knocked herself to the floor, narrowly avoiding jagged projectiles, and buried her head beneath her arms as smaller pieces rained down over her.

Wincing as a dozen needles pricked at the exposed skin of her forearms, Audrey rolled away from the destruction, trying to escape line of fire. But it was no use, because the wreckage seemed to follow her.

When she bumped blindly into a desk, the blonde flipped onto her back, keeping her forearms high to shield her face as she looked up to find the flickering visage of Aria flitting madly around the room.

The wind whistling in through the broken window was whipping up the desktops, making an even worse mess of the bullpen after that explosion of glass.

"Aria!" she shouted over the deafening noise of the storm, which seemed to be raging inside here now. "Aria, stop this! I'm listening! I hear you! But you have to calm down!"

As wind tore at the air above her, Audrey pushed up onto her arms and started scuttling backward as the mess of glass across the floor began to frost over, licking trail of ice toward her.

_Crap. Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap!_ When she tried to stand, the wind battered her down into the floor. But down here, she couldn't seem to move fast enough to stay out of reach of the outstretching myriad of ice. Would shooting the little twit do any good? Probably not. Darn.

Just as a tentacle of frost latched onto her foot, immediately coating her leather boot, Audrey rammed backward into something solid and immovable. She had to look up to realize it was Nathan's legs, and when she did, a sharp stab of relief unfurled.

Halfway crouched, he had his gun out and was trying futilely to track the irrational phantom, eyes wide with vague disbelief even under the severity of his furrowed brow. He reached down, caught Audrey by the arm, and yanked her onto her feet so they could dart around the spreading ice.

She hurried to mimic his posture, hunching down just under the relentless current of wind, while she stomped her freezing foot against the floor to break apart the forming icicles as they hedged their way around to the other side of the storm.

"Where is it?"

"She's right there," Audrey said, pointing in the general direction of Aria's temper tantrum. "Wait. You can't see her, can you?"

Without looking her way, Nathan gave a confirming shake of his head.

"Not gonna do any good," she told him, gesturing at his gun. "She's incorporeal."

"Yeah, I kinda figured." He shifted to glance over at her, offering up a wry grin. Then he was gone, ducking behind one of the desks across from where she was taking cover at the end of a bolted-down bench.

Audrey started to follow but hesitated as an idea struck her. "Nathan," she called in a hushed voice that carried below the noise. "Stall for me. I'll be right back."

Ignoring the incredulous look he shot her, Audrey pivoted on her heels and scuttled out into the rear corridor before racing through to the small kitchen at the back of the station, behind the cells. She rifled breathlessly through the bare-as-bones cupboards and dug under the sink until she came across what she needed.

"Audrey!"

"Please work, please work, please work," she chanted, skidding recklessly back into the bullpen and wading right into the eye of the storm, where Aria was still hissy fitting. Keeping a good grip on the Morton container she'd dug up, Audrey flipped the tab and thrust it at the visage, hailing unrefined sea salt over phantom as she flickered in and out.

Before the crystals could even hit the floor, the little girl dissipated and the room quieted. Though the storm outside still raged on, and it was raining in through the broken window, the windstorm that had stirred inside was gone with the dead girl. Remnants of frost lingered across the floor in a thin sheen, sprinkled with broken glass, but the energy in the air had settled.

"That was insane," she sighed, dropping the carton of salt to the floor and slumping against the nearest desk. "Seriously insane, I tell you."

Nathan was already on his feet, his gun holstered and his expression grim as picked his way through the lifeless wreckage to reach her. "How'd you know to do that?"

Audrey ran a tired hand through her blonde locks, coaxing the unruly mess of them out of her face. "What? Use salt? I guessed."

"Good guess."

Feeling suddenly drained, she just shrugged, watching as he found himself a broom from the utility closet. "Well, it always worked on _Supernatural_." But at his blank look, she hesitated. "You know, cult TV show, monster hunters. Never saw it?"

"Can't say as I have," he murmured, trying to hand her the broom. When she spared him an incredulous look and shook her head, he let out a long-suffering sigh, propped the broom up against the desk she leant on, and delved back into the closet.

She couldn't help but shake her head once he was gone. "That's sad."

Leaving the station in utter disarray in favor of collapsing into a nice, warm, soft bed was certainly tempting. But Nathan wouldn't have it, so Audrey stayed, not wanting to leave him alone to clean up the mess that was at least in part her fault, somehow, even if she couldn't quite figure out how at the moment.

He scrounged up a discarded square of plywood and, after prying the splintered tree branch out of the way, boarded up the broken window to keep out the rest of the storm, while she reluctantly went about sweeping up the glass, grousing under her breath the entire time, making him offer up some weary but comforting laughter.

Once the station no longer resembled a war zone, they gathered their belongings and headed out the door, unanimously agreeing to not write up the reports until morning.

Audrey was relieved as could be to finally be on her way home. Still, she couldn't help but watch a bit forlornly as Nathan drove off in the opposite direction, leaving her to herself.

As weary as she was, she didn't want to be alone. But things were too weird between them now to try for his company. So she went on her lonely way, left to obsess unhindered over the ghostly mess she found herself in this week.

* * *

_TBC_


	4. Sorrows & Secrets

**"_Sorrows and Secrets"_**

**I**t was the third beer that did it, the one that brought Audrey to the unwise decision to head straight over to her partner's place and demand to know why he didn't want her around anymore. Regrettably, she'd always been a mild lightweight. Now it was sure to bite her on the ass, all this lowering her inhibitions just a smidgen of enough to lead her here to Nathan's doorstep so late at night.

She'd had partners before, no doubt. More than was standard for an agent as fresh as she was, because she always found a reason to keep circulating. She never stayed long enough to grow attached. Bad things happened when she got attached—which was why the last real friend she had was way back in high school. (Okay, not _way_ back, but back enough to make a dent.) Casual acquaintances were safe. That was all she had. Until Haven. Until Nathan.

He wasn't just her partner. He was her friend. Her best friend. Her only friend. That meant something. That she hadn't psyched herself out of this unusual draw she felt for him was astounding. She'd even caught herself losing a bit of the cynic's edge toward her rising sentiments. Until he went and constructed this wall between them and got all rigid around her. And because she'd made it a policy to avoid this very situation by never investing emotionally in her surroundings, she had no clue how to handle it. So she got all wonky and did something so stupid like . . . _this_.

After spending the day tracking down and then discussing possibilities of how to handle the vengeful spirit of Aria Anderson with the most reputable of the local psychic talent, she'd come back to her cozy (okay, tiny) but empty little studio rental, which overlooked the beautiful rocky beach Haven was made up of, and she'd proceeded to drown her unwarranted sorrows under the buzz of alcohol and the distraction of poring over research . . . research on the Anderson family, research on ghosts, research on this mysterious (and apparently nonexistent) gravedigger guy. (Sure, Haven had a fair share of cemeteries and the caretakers that went along with those, but no one stood out and, as far as she could tell, no one was known as "The Gravedigger.")

Somewhere vaguely in between there, she'd veered off course and now it was too late to turn back, because Nathan was swinging his door open and peering out at her through a groggy sleep-laden face, rumpled pajama pants and gray undershirt, and arguably adorable bedhead. (Never mind that it was way too chilly a night for those flimsy fabrics.)

Lifting her chin and folding her arms, Audrey let out the first thing that popped into her fed-up head. "I want to talk to you about your abrasive behavior."

Nathan fell sideways, landing in a haphazard slouch against the frame of his front door. "Huh?"

"Can I come in?"

"Uh . . ." Glancing over his shoulder, scrubbing a hand through his hair, he pushed himself out of the doorway. "Sure."

Audrey shivered as she stepped over the threshold and turned to watch him close the door behind her, shutting out the bite of cold.

Idiopathic neuropathy (a neurological dysfunction of an unknown cause), that was what he'd told her it was, his condition, the one that kept him numb. He couldn't feel cold, or hot, or anything else that had to do with his sensory nerves. All these sensations that everyone around him took for granted had been stolen from him years ago.

_Must make life pretty difficult_, she thought. And that was why she normally didn't reach out to him. The woman had grown used to being an island, all on her own with no connections, no family, no friends. Keep it simple. It was just easier that way. It was how she'd survived this long as a socially-inept orphan girl.

But Haven threatened to change all that.

If there was ever a person Audrey had wanted to try connecting with, it was Nathan Wournos. Funny, huh? (Or, at least, seriously ironic.) Despite that desire, she'd carried herself very carefully around him. She didn't clasp his hand, or brush a casual touch across his cheek, nor did she squeeze his shoulder or brush her arm up against his as they walked. Since he couldn't feel them, all of those things would be for her, not him. That was why she just didn't do them (on purpose, anyway).

But there was a big difference between not going out of her way to keep close contact with Nathan and having him actively avoid it. In fact, her already fragile emotional being (the secret one deep down there where no one else got to know it existed) was starting to get a complex. When they first met, it had seemed so good, so easy between them. But then somewhere recently along the line, things had taken a turn for the worse, and Audrey had no idea what or why.

To which she was here, not going anywhere, determined to find out.

But now that she was _here_, she was beginning to feel a little silly. "Sorry to drag you out of bed," she muttered, following him down the hall into the darkened kitchen. "I probably should've waited 'til tomorrow."

"Not if it's important," he countered, still with his back to her, still sounding half asleep. "Is everything all right? You get another visit from Ghost Girl?"

"Uh, well, no, not exactly. I, uh, just—no, you know, it's not important in the sense of important things. It's only . . ." _This is going so great_. "We need to talk."

"Yeah?" he murmured, staring at her now, his expression blank. He'd put the breakfast bar between them and was leaning against it, watching her with a sedated expectance that made her want to shuffle her feet.

Yeah, she was feeling decidedly silly now, but there was no way she was going to turn and go home until he'd given her an acceptable answer. Pride, be damned.

She skirted around the breakfast bar, sidling up to him, distracting herself by looking around. (She'd never been to his place before. It was nice . . . in an earthy kind of way). But when he immediately rounded her under the guise of checking the fridge, she faltered. Darn it, he couldn't even stand to be within three feet of her. What the hell?

"Okay, that's it." Hackles rising, Audrey spun to face him, curling her hands over the edge of the bar at her back. "What is the problem here, Nathan?"

He gave a resigned sounding sigh before turning around. "What do you mean?"

"Have I done something to jilt you? Do you hate my new shampoo? I mean, come on, what's the matter with you . . . with us?"

"I don't—"

"No," she snapped, throwing up a hand to stop him. "Don't do that. I know you know what I'm talking about. You've been acting weird around me for weeks now. You're distant and unapproachable without actually being rude. You put this ridiculous amount of berth between us, and whenever I try to cross it, you freeze me out. I want to know what's wrong. I thought . . . I mean, you—" She stopped herself, shifting away as she struggled with her words, lightly tapping the side of her fist against the countertop. There was a lump in her throat that she had to swallow past, and her voice was starting to sound a bit odd, but she couldn't seem to pull herself back from the brink. "What did I do?"

Arms still folded uneasily across his chest, Nathan let his eyes fall closed at her uncharacteristically small voice. Vulnerable was not something he was comfortable with on Audrey. He hadn't wanted to delve into it, but how could he not now with her looking at him like that?

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to upset you."

She bristled, eyes narrowing, arms crossing in belated defense. "I'm not upset."

"No? Oh, forget I mentioned it then." But there was a reluctant upturn to the edges of his mouth now. "You didn't do anything wrong. It's really not you at all. And I like your new shampoo—wild violet and cherry blossoms, right?"

"Wild violets and pomegranate, actually," she said softly, a slight crease in her fair brow. "That's really impressive, and also kinda weird."

Nathan shrugged his shoulders. "Well, they do say when you lose one sense, the others become more acute."

She sighed, still staring funnily at him. "They do say that."

"You really want to know?" he warned at last, even as a voice in his head insisted this was a bad idea—bad and unfair to her. It would only complicate matters between them. Possibly ruin whatever friendship they were building, if she (understandably) failed to react well. "It's really not your fault. It's me, all me. And if you want to go and pretend like this never happened, then it would probably be for the best."

Hands dropping from the counter, Audrey took a tentative step toward him. When he didn't immediately bolt, she took another. "Nathan," she urged. "Whatever it is, it can't be as awful as you're making it out to be."

"No," he conceded with a rueful shake of his head. "No. It's not awful. Really, it's . . . incredible."

Startled, Audrey eased back a step. "You're really freaking me out. What's the deal?"

And then, his carefully guarded façade was gone and he was closing the distance between them, hovering above her, keeping them mere inches apart. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, relaxed, clenched again. His inner debate ended.

"I feel you, Audrey. That's what's happening," he breathed out, vehemence rising with every charged second that passed now. "For the first time in years, I can feel my skin . . . my hands on you, your softness and your sensation, hell, even your body heat when I'm near enough to you like this. It's unbelievable. And I've been keeping you at bay because I'm afraid that if I don't I won't be able to control myself. You have no idea."

_Well_, she thought after a long moment of standing stupefied.A hesitant sort of calm came over her at his outburst, at the tightly-bound energy she could suddenly feel simmering beneath the surface of him. That distant, cold, detached aura that had enveloped him the last few weeks shattered into a million pieces at their feet. But as awesome as that sudden rush felt, Audrey wasn't sure how to absorb it all.

Easing away just a sliver of space to catch her breath, she snaked her arms around her waist and frowned up at him. "What do you mean, you feel me? Has your condition—"

"No," he cut in with a quick shake of his head, looking grim and pained. "It's just you. I don't understand it, and I'm not fixed, so there must be something special about you."

"Yeah, I've been hearing that a lot lately."

"Audrey," he said, and she was suddenly utterly sober, all wry sarcasm dried up and forgotten under the weight of his stare. It was almost eager, but definitively braced for undoubted misery. The contradiction was rich. Life had breathed into his features, shining a restrained excitement and hope and awe that made her feel very uncomfortable, very inept, and very much at a loss for what to do. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to heap this all on you. That's why I . . . why I was keeping my distance."

She nodded in acknowledgement, but her attention was directed out the window above the kitchen sink as she floundered for composure. Her head was spinning. This was good, right? It felt good. Hell, it felt great. But there was a very wary part of her that wasn't so sure . . . a part that was afraid she'd find reason this new development should carry serious drawbacks.

If there were any, though, she'd need more time to suss them out, because none were jumping at her.

"So," she said, drawing in a deep breath as she gathered her resolve. Then, pulling the sleeve of her jacket over her hand, Audrey reached out and took Nathan by the wrist, urging his hand up to her cheek. Their eyes locked, and she was mesmerized by his reaction, as subtle (but avid) as it was. "What do you feel?"

"Cold," he whispered, his gaze intense as it focused on the contact of his large hand hesitantly spanning the side of her face through stray tendrils of hair. "Your skin's cold."

She was still a bit wind-whipped from standing on his doorstep so long, summoning up the nerve to knock (_bang_ was more like it).

Tugging softly at his wrist, she guided his hand to her shoulder and let it rest over the thick wool of her jacket. "And now?"

"Your heat beneath it," he said, shaking his head, still staring in puzzlement at his hand on her. "But other than that, nothing."

So it was about skin to skin contact, whatever _it_ was.

"Okay." Audrey nodded, watching the emotions and thoughts play out in his eyes. Slowly, she slipped her free hand to the front of her jacket and unfastened the buttons before sliding it (along with the strap of her camisole) to the side, leaving Nathan's palm to fall onto bare flesh. "And now?" she repeated. Though she needn't have; it was right there in his face, the way the soft furrow of his brow deepened, and his eyes fell closed for a moment as he reveled.

"You have no idea," he whispered again. But she could imagine. If whatever he was feeling was anywhere near what she was feeling (that live wire spark that lit the nerve endings under her skin at the faint press of his calloused fingertips against the curve of her shoulder, the wide heel of his palm over her collarbone), she wouldn't grudge him his seemingly inordinate reaction. Really, though, it wasn't inordinate at all when she tried to fathom what it must be like for him, living completely numb on the outside while painfully aware from the inside.

"So this is of the good then, right?" she asked him, stepping closer until their bodies were nearly but not quite flush and she had to turn her face up to keep her eyes on his. "And you and I are okay?"

Laying both his hands down onto her shoulders, slipping beneath the layers of clothing, Nathan drew in a deep hiss of breath, noticing but unable to help the way his body was slanting toward her, drawn in as if she were his own personal lighthouse. After weeks of holding himself brittle around her to fight off the unbearable temptation, the relief of having confessed and not having to force his hands to stay off of her was singing through his veins.

"Audrey," he said (thickly, roughly) at last. "You . . . are a respite I never imagined."

Looking up into his emotive gaze, Audrey felt her spine bow. Her body was stretching ever so slowly onto her toes, banishing the distance between them inch by inch. "I'm glad," she murmured, swallowing thickly when he dusted an errant lock of golden hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. As he did so, Nathan's fingers tangled in her tresses, twining them around his fingertips, experimenting with the long-forgotten pleasure to be found in a woman's hair.

"Is this . . . all right?" he wondered, voice faraway, expression distracted. She nodded, but it did nothing to assuage him, because his attention caught on her mouth and the way she'd pinned her lower lip between her teeth. His restraint was quavering, ready to dissolve. He had to work hard to gather himself, reminding his brain how terribly bad an idea this was. (_This_ being taking advantage of the mind-numbing opportunity the exception of Audrey presented, despite that it was _Audrey_, and it could royally screw up his world). "I . . . uh, I don't think—"

But he didn't get any farther, because the exception in question darted up the remainder of space between them and caught him in a breathless kiss.

A moment went by where life seemed to still, and the two lingered softly there in that hanging pause, until the dam of desires broke and they both fumbled into an aching, surprised, electrifying frenzy.

Losing hesitancy, Nathan curled one hand over the nape of her neck, tunneling into her fine locks and fisting for a firm grip, while his other splayed across the small of her back and pulled her smaller body up against him. There was no space left and still they couldn't get close enough. Audrey's fingers dug into the sinewy muscle of his shoulders, pushing up as he pushed down, battling it out.

They explored one another as that awakening lust rose high and hard.

Moving gracelessly, he backed her up against the nearest countertop, and Audrey arced, hands gripping and tugging and grazing. They were both panting for air as their mouths met over and over again, mimicking a familiar rhythm that their hips began to instinctually follow.

Audrey savored the heady rush washing over her. She dropped onto the countertop, stretching taut and arching up into his touch as Nathan smoothed his encompassing hands up the curve of her torso, rucking the tank top up to expose that tender space of her midsection. He dipped down, eyes roaming up to her face, and trailed his lips across her skin. She curled her arms above her head to grip the opposite edge of the counter. But just as soon as they started that way, they had both forgotten the path they were on and abandoned it in favor of meeting up again in another unchoreographed kiss.

Thighs hugging his hips, Audrey shoved off of the counter, biting down on his lower lip as he caught her weight and stumbled backward. Nathan's back hit the fridge, knocking a cluster of magnets to the floor, and his hands left her waist, going up to cradle her face, her neck, take a handful of mussed hair and hold on.

"Nathan," she murmured into his mouth, sliding her tongue across the line of his teeth and smiling against him as the vibrations drew a low groan from his throat. With her hands on his shoulders, she levered herself up, just so she could come down again, grinding into him.

The friction heavy slide of their bodies was as wonderful as it was simple.

"Audrey," he groaned again, trying to turn out of the kiss. "Wait, Audrey. Maybe we shouldn't."

"Maybe we should," she countered, pulling him back in with a grip on the nape of his neck. "Maybe . . ."

But that was when the lights went on. They flickered, illuminating the darkness around the duo with a sharp flash that blinded them both, before it all blacked out again. In the other room, static arose from the old television set, while the radio flipped on and scrolled through stations at a manic speed.

Stiffening, Audrey slid to her feet, and Nathan reluctantly let her go. A chill skittered up her spine. Just then, across the kitchen, the faucet switched on and water poured outward like a fan, drenching them.

"Aria's back!" she shouted, ducking behind the breakfast bar to avoid the icicles that were flying toward them. "And she's obviously not very pleased."

"You think?"

Turning for the entryway, Audrey latched onto Nathan's arm and jerked him with her out of the room, never rising from her crouch. "Got any salt?"

"In the pantry, past the sink," he said, collapsing back against the wall of the hallway to narrowly dodge an icy projectile.

The few hung photos were trembling with the increasing threat of a volatile explosion.

"Wouldn't matter anyway, I guess. She hasn't shown her face yet. I wouldn't know where to throw it."

"Think you can get through to her?"

"I'm not the Ghost Whisperer. I already tried rationalizing. Hell, I agreed with her. So I don't know why she's still pissed." Someone needed a lesson in persuasion. If the girl really wanted her help, she was going about it the total wrong way. "Maybe if I can—"

But a zing of _something_ shocked through her then. She jolted, gasping at the stab of discomfort, of foreign invasion, while the kitchen went quiet.

"Audrey?" he called, freezing as he watched her faze out. Her soft features went slack, eyes emptied, before her body slumped to the floor. "Audrey!"

* * *

_TBC_


	5. StoLen

**"_Stolen"_**

"**A**udrey? Hey, you okay?"

"Hm?" she answered, eyes fluttering open to find Nathan hovering over her. The radiating ache along her body was mostly faint and fading. But where the sudden shock started seeping away, that odd lingering presence became noticeable. "Oh. Yeah, I'm fine." _Am I really?_ "Help me up, will ya?"

Grasping her proffered hand, Nathan pulled her gently to her feet and kept her steady when she swayed. "What in hell just happened?"

Audrey stilled, glancing down at herself, running her hands over her body. "Um, I'm not entirely sure. I think I just . . . got hit with some kind of . . . static shock or something," she said, shrugging it off. But when she looked up at him, Nathan didn't seem convinced. "What's with the look? I'm fine."

"Okay," he drawled, not at all sincere. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure." She pulled tentatively out of his grasp and righted herself, straightening her jacket and redoing the buttons before corralling her hair out from under the collar. "I am really drained, though. I think I should just head home."

Nathan was scanning his place, lost in thought, but when she started for the door, he reached out and caught her by the arm, spinning her back to him. "Not yet."

Audrey looked down at his hand on her then up at his face, arching a pale eyebrow. "I'm serious. I just wanna go home."

"Okay," he said in a peculiarly quiet voice. "But I'll take you. I don't want to leave you alone just yet."

She went rigid at that, chilling as she caught the suspicious glint in his gaze. "I told you I'm _fine_. I don't need a babysitter. Now let go of me."

He spent a long moment studying her eyes, her features, searching for something reassuring, before he withdrew his hold on her and held up his hands in sign of surrender. "All right . . . Goodnight, Audrey."

Wetting her lips, she backed her way to the front door, reluctant to turn on him. Where this new unease came from, she wasn't sure. But there was distrust in the air and she was affected. Once she was out the door, though, Audrey spun and briskly carved her retreat without glancing back once.

Nathan caught the swinging door in his hand, watching her go, while something unsettling (like dread) twisted inside of him. There was something there, some knowing suspicion, some intuition that begged to be acknowledged. Yet he couldn't quite grasp it.

What instinct was trying to tell him was what he would only realize after a sleepless night of tossing and turning. But he _would_ realize it. And by sunup . . . he would know what he was going to do about it.

~ HAVEN ~

**T**he reflection in the mirror the next morning was Audrey Parker. Audrey's clear blue eyes, Audrey's fine golden hair (the wavy locks that just barely brushed past her shoulders), and Audrey's paling complexion (her formerly sun-kissed skin wasn't getting as much sunshine here in Maine this late in the year). It was all Audrey, the only reflection she'd ever seen. Despite that, though, she knew that there was something the mirror's image was hiding. She _knew_ something had changed inside of her. But she had no idea how to handle it.

Should she freak? Should she call for help? Should she . . . What should she do?

"Nothing," her voice whispered aloud, staring into her own cerulean eyes through the mirror. "You won't do anything, Audrey. Not about this. We have somewhere to be."

_I'm not going anywhere with you._

Her mouth quirked in the corners at that, but she moved away from the mirror and out of the bathroom. "Fine, you wait here. I'll go." She passed the kitchenette and crouched in front of the antique bureau that rested under one of the studio's expansive windows, this one looking out over the white sand and bed of rocks along her small curve of the shore. Within the bottom drawer, she found her 9mm and hip holster.

_Very funny_, Audrey drawled, not at all amused. She tried to force herself to put down the gun and step backward but her body wouldn't listen. Instead, it rose out of the crouch and toed the drawer shut while hooking the holster at her waist, clipping it to her leather belt and fastening the handgun. _What do you need that for? Who are you going to shoot? Do you even know how to use one of those?_

"Of course I do," she scoffed. "What do you take me for, an imbecile?"

_I don't know you! And, I have to say, I'm getting seriously sick of this. Get your own body, would ya? Leave mine alone._

"Calm down, honey. There's no need to panic," she soothed, returning to the bathroom mirror to corral her hair up into a topknot and roll a bit of gloss across her lips. "I have no intention of shooting anyone. I promise."

_I'm more worried about the fact that you've commandeered my body_, she snapped. _You have some nerve, lady._

"Oh, hush. You can share for a little while." She shrugged on a wool jacket over her white button-down blouse and slacks, one that brushed her thighs, and fastened it closed to keep the chill away. Then she filled the pockets with all essentials and made a grab for the keys that lived on the end table by the door on her way out. "Besides, I did save your life, you know."

It was Audrey's turn to scoff. _Oh, how so?_

"That demented little rugrat would have surely killed you last night," she explained as she crossed the dewy lawn and found Audrey's rented Altima waiting at the curb. "In fact, she was trying to possess you when I slipped in first."

_Oh, gee, well, thanks a lot. _The lack of gratitude was practically palpable. _So you just happened to be passing by and thought you'd be a good ghosty Samaritan?_

"Hardly," she murmured with a sigh before sliding behind the wheel and starting up the heater. She sat for a moment, rubbing her hands together, blowing on them, holding them in front of the vents to warm up, and formulated a loose plan of action, all while Audrey ranted in the background. Firstly, they had to bury the hatchet. Audrey's resistance would only complicate matters. "Look, I know this is terribly rude of me and all, but I was out of options. Once you understand what's going on, you'll want to help."

_Right now, I'm not inclined to do anything but kick your ass out of me_, Audrey announced. Her agitation (and worry and fear) was lancing through them both._ What is it with you ghosts, anyway? First the crazy little loon tries to kill me, pops in attacking me and my partner with all sorts of freaky effects, and claims it's because she wants my help? Yeah, sure—I buy that. Now you come in and bench me from my own body. All for what exactly, may I ask? Help? Well, you can go find a medium, because I'm not interested, not with the trouble you've caused._

Audrey's body let out a long-suffering sigh as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Yes, I know. You have every right to be upset. But must you be so melodramatic? This is bigger than you."

_No, actually. This is just about my size._ She looked down at herself for emphasis, and though the movement startled Audrey, it did not her invader. She tried to take her hands off the wheel, reach for the door, but nothing happened._ What's going on?_

"I'm willing to share," she explained. "But you have to promise me you'll cooperate."

_Why should I?_

"Please, just have patience, honey. Give me a chance? A day—one day is all I ask for and by midnight I'll be gone from you. I give my word."

Suspicion rose strong, preceding a frisson of hesitance. _Why?_

She sighed again and wearily admitted, "It takes a lot of energy to maintain an unwilling vessel. I won't have enough to last very long, but if you keep fighting me, I won't be able to even hold on until midnight. And there are reasons for all of this. You must give me a chance. Please, Audrey."

Silence greeted her.

"Please," she reiterated. "What do you have to lose?"

_I . . . Oh, fine. I'll go along for the ride. But I'm serious—whoever you are, whatever is going on, if I'm not impressed, I'm kicking you out._

An indulgent smile graced Audrey's lips as her guest shifted the car into gear and pulled away from the curb, her motions much more fluid than before. "You will be," she assured. "But if I may point out, you should thank me."

At Audrey's internal harrumph, her lips curved again.

"Aria is a blundering bottle rocket. She would have torn you apart trying to take control. I have a much smoother touch . . . which is why you feel well enough to be lashing at my hold."

_Oh_, Audrey said eventually. She could admit having Aria tear her way into her didn't sound too appealing. But she was _not_ going to _thank_ her body snatcher. No way. No how.

~ HAVEN ~

"**D**amn it!" Nathan exclaimed, whirling away from the useless telephone and kicking the toe of his boot into the side of his desk. The frustration roiled off of him in palpable waves as he raked a hand through his hair and sunk onto the leather sofa with a heavy sigh. "Damn."

"What seems to be the problem?" someone asked, making Nathan turn his head and look up to find the homely Vince Teague hovering in the open doorway to his office.

"The _problem_ is that Audrey is in trouble and I'm getting nowhere."

Literally wringing his hands in front of him, Vince inched his way into the office and perched on the closest arm of the sofa across from the younger man. "What kind of trouble is she in?"

"I . . . I don't know." Nathan sighed again, flopping back against the leather cushion. After a long night and an early morning of nothing but driving himself stir-crazy, if nothing else, the new company was a relief. "I'm not sure. I just . . ."

He hesitated, glancing sidelong at the other man as he debated whether to confide openly or not. He wouldn't have with most, but the Teague brothers had been in the middle of a couple of the odder cases he'd handled, and they both knew all about The Troubles. So what could it hurt?

"You see, we've kinda been having this ghost problem."

Instantly interested, Vince slanted encouragingly forward. "Yes?"

So Nathan settled back with another sigh and explained the situation as concisely but sensibly as possible. He was just getting to the point where Audrey collapsed during the last encounter and her suspicious behavior afterward when Vince popped excitedly to his feet, wringing his hands again.

"Oh. That sounds awfully intriguing," he muttered, pacing, attention focused inward. "I think I recall the Anderson girl's accident. I wonder if Dave remembers the time. It was such a terrible incident, but no one thought anything of it, as if there were more going on than there appeared to be. That Johnny boy was always a bit unpleasant. But to think that he would murder his own sister—"

"We don't know he did," Nathan cut in. "For all we know, the girl was feeding Parker a bunch of bull. But that's not the point. Right now, I don't care what happened over a decade ago. I'm thinking of Audrey."

"Right, right, of course," Vince conceded. His worn face drew together as he considered something before he snapped his fingers and turned to Nathan. "You know what you should do? You should speak with Muriel."

Nathan frowned. "Who?"

"Muriel Bishop."

"The local seamstress?" he checked. "What has she got to do with it?"

Vince's excitement ebbed as he grew guarded, easing backward toward the door. "Oh, Muriel's very knowledgeable about this sort of problem," he explained. "You should go to her. She may be surprisingly helpful."

"May I ask how so?" Nathan tried, with not a little sliver of sarcasm, rising to his feet. But Vince was already out the door, and the only thing the other man spared him was a sheepish grin before he spun and scurried away, leaving Nathan to inwardly sigh.

~ HAVEN ~

"**O**h," she breathed happily. "Wow. I can't believe it is still here."

_This is where you just ha-a-a-d to go?_ Audrey drawled, not at all impressed so far.

"No, no," her imposter said, climbing from the car and slipping the keys into her pocket as she gazed up at the little pastry shop before her. "This is only a pit stop."

_A pit stop_, Audrey parroted. _You possessed me to eat breakfast? I thought this was urgent!_

"I know, I know. It is. Really," she insisted, making her way into the shop. She paused in the entrance and drew in a deep breath, inhaling the heavenly scent of baking yeast and vanilla extract. "But do you have any idea how long it's been since I've had one of Rosemary's fritters?"

Audrey felt the sad twinge of nostalgia, the longing, but pushed it aside, knowing it wasn't hers. _Now how would I know a fact like that? And why should I care, exactly?_

"We've got a long day ahead of us, honey." Her voice was a whisper on the heated air around her as she meandered along one section of the L-shaped encasement, dancing fingertips across the glass surface as she surveyed the assortments. "Wouldn't want to starve you, would I?"

Not exactly able to argue the logic there, Audrey felt her resistance ebb. _Whatever_, she said with a resigned sigh. _But I'm allergic, so get away from those maple rolls._

There were three other people inside, two being taken care of by young Jimmy behind the counter and the third was munching on a banana nut muffin at one of the quaint café tables in the corner by the storefront window. No one paid her any attention.

"Who's allergic to maple?" her invader whispered incredulously, even as she moved past the display of cinnamon and maple rolls.

_Me._

"That's fine. What about French crullers? Allergic to those, are you? Or éclairs?"

_You mean the Long Johns?_

"Oh, excuse me for the slip," she chirped, rolling her eyes and coming to a stop once the front counter was clear. After signaling for Jimmy's attention, she ordered her wants, took her pastry bag and coffee, and slipped away.

Only once they were out on the street did Audrey pipe up again. _So, are you gonna tell me where we're headed on this oh-so important mission of yours? Or are we just gonna keep killing time?_

"It's easier to just show you rather than try to explain," she replied, setting her coffee on the roof of her car to dig out a cruller and take a much anticipated first bite. It was like an explosion to her taste buds, startling Audrey and thrilling her guest. "My God, this is wonderful," she practically moaned. "So long."

Despite the strange circumstance, Audrey couldn't help but take a moment to chuckle. _I guess ghosts can't eat, huh?_

"You have no idea."

_Guess I don't . . . So, um, am I supposed to just keep calling you The Invader? Or do you happen to have a name?_

"Oh, I'm sorry. I suppose with all the brouhaha, manners slipped my mind."

_The wha-ha-ha what?_ Audrey wondered.

Cradling her cruller between two fingers, with the bag pinned between her arm and her chest, the imposter swiped the coffee up off the roof and swiveled around to the bumper so she could hop up atop the trunk and savor her treat.

"You can call me Laura. It's nice to meet you, Audrey Parker." _I've had my eye on you for quite some time now_, she added silently, piquing Audrey's suspicion once again._ It's so good to finally be able to interact with you._

_Why have you been watching me?_ Audrey wanted to know. _Aria said something about some stolen light, about a gravedigger who killed her because she was special, said he'd come after me because I'm like her. What does that mean? How am I like Aria Anderson? And are you like her, too? Is that why you're involved?_ More and more questions bounced around inside her mind as she puzzled it out.

"Slow down," Laura said, picking reverently at her cruller in between sips of hazelnut coffee. Her eyes followed a pair of elderly joggers as they weaved their way down the sidewalk, streaking past the line of storefront windows as everyone was setting up for the day. It was still pretty early, so (other than for all the usual activity down at the harbor) Haven was still somewhat quiet this morning. "All right, let me begin with this one . . . I've been watching you ever since you found Haven. Why? Well, because I knew the time would come that you'd need my help, and I'd need yours."

_Thanks_, Audrey deadpanned. _That sure explains it._

"Look." Laura sighed. "I'm sorry. It's a long story. I told you I'd show you, and I will, because explaining it won't get us anywhere. I don't know if I even _can_ explain it properly. You just have to trust me."

_I don't _have_ to do anything, least of all blindly put faith in the mysterious spirit that so rudely possessed me. You do know that Nathan and I were kind of in the middle of something sensitive when you barged in, right? You totally gave him the cold shoulder when we were _finally_ making a breakthrough. Do you have any idea how far you probably set us back? In fact, now that I'm thinking of it, you can at least let me tell him what's going on. That is if and when you ever let _me_ know what's going on._

"No, no, no. You can't involve your partner, Audrey."

_What? Why?_

"It's too dangerous for him." _And he might try to stop us_, she reluctantly added. "If you don't want to see him hurt, you'll leave him out of this."

_Laura . . ._

"He's rather intimidating, isn't he?" she cut in. "That partner of yours."

Audrey bristled a bit, wondering what her guest was implying. _No, he's reserved._

"Hmm," she murmured thoughtfully. "And you care deeply for him?"

_I . . . You know what? Let's just focus._

Laura let out a light laugh and shook her head. "Deflect all you like, honey. But I've been around for awhile. I've seen the way you two dance around each other . . . and the way you are when you're _not_ together," she needled. "Don't bother denying."

If Audrey had control of her body, she'd be fidgeting. _How is this any of your business?_

Laura ignored her. "He's a part of why you've been drawn here. You must know that by now."

_Why? Because he can feel me? Because he's troubled and I have this freaky affinity with all the afflicted?_

"Yes."

_It couldn't possibly have to do with me making the choice to stay here and search for my mother, to discover my past, where I came from, who I am. No, that's not why I'm here in Haven. I'm here for some ill-fated love affair_, she drawled—and then almost immediately regretted it, because the connotation unleashed a myriad of thought processes that she did _not_ want to get into right now.

"Why do you assume your connection with the Wournos boy is ill-fated?" Laura wondered, seeming genuinely puzzled.

Audrey only sighed. _Everything is ill-fated._

"Wow. I had no idea you were such a pessimistic fatalist."

_Please, lady. I'm just a realist—a pretty chipper one at that. And on that note, why don't we get right down to it and you tell me what it is you're playing at._

Laura gave another shake of her head and a small sigh. "You can trust me, Audrey. I only want to protect you."

_Why? Why would you care what happens to me? You don't even know me._

"No," Laura said in a pensive voice. "You're right. I don't know you." She paused, and Audrey could sense the inward debate that raged, the indecision, but she couldn't understand it, not until Laura opted to share. "But we're family . . . and we take care of our own." Then, with a wry quirk to her lips, she added, "Even if some of us aren't still of the living."

Audrey was silent for a long moment, processing. Finally, she countered carefully with a hushed, _I don't have any family._

_Yes, you do. And we've been waiting for you,_ Laura thought to her, taking a languid sip of her coffee before sliding to her feet. "Come on. Let's get going."

* * *

_TBC_


	6. On The BrInk

**"_On The Brink"_**

"**M**y name is Ripley. Laura Ripley. Your mother was my sister."

_Was?_ Audrey asked, struggling to not let the disappointment overwhelm her. She should've known not to get her hopes up. It only ever led to bad things._ She's dead, too?_

"No," Laura answered after a long moment of thought as she coasted the car off the street and pulled it down a long gravel driveway. "No, I honestly don't know where Lucy is or how she's doing. I don't think she's dead, honey. But I couldn't tell you for sure. I haven't seen her since before my death. In fact, I came to Haven looking for her, but apparently she'd already moved on by then, and I ended up caught in the Troubles. Before I had a chance to keep looking for her, I . . . well, you know."

_Right_, Audrey sighed._ So that's why you've been watching me?_

"Yep," Laura retorted, popping her P as she parked the car in front of a small cottage on the tip of Cape Leigh and shut off the engine. Coffee in hand, she climbed out and spent a moment scanning the breathtaking surroundings that were so common around here. The cottage was quiet and still. But Laura knew the one she was looking for would be waiting.

_What did you mean by "we've been waiting for you"? That sounded decidedly ominous._

Laura chuckled, tucking her ungloved hands into the pockets of her jacket to keep them warm. "I'm not alone, honey. A lot of the Ripleys have found their way to Haven over time."

_Sounds like that's not all they've found. _It sounded as if Haven was a serious curse, luring the Ripley line in for an untimely demise. _They all come and die? Is my whole family a bunch of ghosts just hanging around waiting for more to join 'em?_

"It's not like that, really. As far as I know, my parents are still living the modest life down in Baltimore. And Lucy and I didn't have any other siblings. But my aunt Helena is here. She died when we were children. Until I met up with her spirit, I had no idea she was here or what had happened to her. And Helena brought me to Natalie Ripley, who is actually our ancestor. Through the years, there have been a few more, but most of them move on. Only a rare select of us linger on in Haven."

_Why haven't _you_ moved on?_

"Like I said, we've been waiting for you, or someone like you. Aria was a chance, but before we could track her down, she was killed. For a while there, Helena was convinced that she'd been our last hope. And then you came along," she said with a small smile. "You're the only one that can help us break the cycle, Audrey. You can stop it. Then I'm sure Helena and I will be able to move on to . . . well, wherever."

_Huh, _Audrey murmured, falling into inner musing.

The early morning breeze picked up and rustled through her golden hair as she rounded the cottage, cutting through an expansive and well-kept garden to make her way up onto the rear deck that looked out over the nearest jetty. In the distance, the Seafarer's Lighthouse jutted out over one of the larger capes across the harbor.

"Muriel." She rounded the corner of the cottage, reached the sliding glass door, and hesitated. A frisson of warning rippled softly through her. "Muriel," she called again, her voice hushed and suspicious. "Answer me."

When she stepped inside, she found the interior in disarray, like a tornado had blown through, and panic pitched. She bolted through the destroyed kitchen, leaping over broken china pieces and fallen pots, bypassed the empty den, ventured deeper down a small hallway into the alcove of the two bedrooms and the bath. She skidded to a stop at the old woman's room, finding a line of salt poured across the threshold.

Laura instantly relaxed, rapping her knuckles on the bedroom door as she leaned her shoulder against the frame. "You all in one piece in there, Bishop?" she asked, toeing a disruption into the salt boundary.

A few moments of nothing passed before the door swung inward and poised old Muriel Bishop appeared, looking unusually rumpled but otherwise unharmed. "Who the bloody hell are you?"

"It's me." She paused to tilt her head and grin. "Laura Ripley."

The woman drew back, eyes widening. "My goodness, you've truly done it."

"I told you I would, didn't I?"

"I didn't believe you could," Muriel harrumphed before her attention diverted. "That is quite a relief. The sooner we finish this, the better. That nasty little child was at it again. I couldn't catch a wink of sleep last night what with the banshee hollering and knocking about. Now move over, darling. I've been trapped in here for hours. I'm about to pee my pants." With that, she shoved Laura aside and made a beeline for the bathroom.

_You have to be kidding,_ Audrey drawled. _This is your accomplice?_

"You hush. Muriel is about the only useful diviner in this town."

_If you say so._

Chuckling, Laura made her way back through the cottage, returning to the kitchen. She was sweeping up the shattered glass when the old woman emerged, all put together with her haughty chin lifted into the air.

"I told you not to set her off," Laura chided lightly. "What upset her this time?"

"Oh." Muriel's withered hands fluttered about her long silver hair as she seated herself at the small kitchen table. "I attempted another communing last night."

"Failed again?" Laura wondered absently, not looking up from her task. "I don't know why you keep bothering. No one knows who he is."

Muriel only smiled knowingly. "Finally, we have what we need. Thanks to you, dear."

"I won't be able to sustain Audrey for long," she warned. "But if I slip, I think we may still be able to accomplish this. Now that she understands, she'll help us."

_When did I agree to that?_

_Audrey, now is not the time to be adversarial for the fun of it,_ the ghost scolded before directing her attention back to the old woman. "We must be prepared. One way or another, this all ends tonight."

_What's the rush?_

"This evening is the new moon, dear." Muriel's words startled Audrey. "It falls on the autumnal equinox."

"This is what the Gravedigger has been waiting for," Laura clarified. "He'll make his move on you tonight. He has to."

But Audrey was still stuck on her surprise. _Can she hear me?_

Laura let out a long-suffering sigh, slumping against the fridge. "Strictly speaking, no."

"I sense you," Muriel explained to thin air. "It's no more than emotions and perception. I simply translate it to words when need be."

_That's creepy._

"Can we please stay on task here?" Laura stressed. "There is still a lot to do before moonrise. We don't have time to waste."

Muriel nodded once in agreement. "Yes."

Audrey heaved an aggrieved sigh, feeling a major headache coming on. This situation was just too bizarre. She hated being displaced like this. It was . . . unnatural. Bothersome, too. _Fine,_ she told them. _Let's get to it then._

It all came together rather smoothly considering the odd dynamic and the incessant setbacks. Eventually, they devised a plan to lure in the Gravedigger, who was going to be coming for "Audrey" once the new moon had risen, because he must take her light then if he wanted it to sustain him. Or at least that was what Laura and Muriel insisted. Audrey was still baffled on the whole "light" concept. It was something she and Aria and Laura and her biological mother Lucy all had in common, why they had been murdered, why they had been drawn to Haven and all its Troubles in the first place. They were guiding lights—meant to steady on the many troubled through coming storms. And, if Laura and the old woman were to be believed, this Gravedigger had been living for over a century and a half in Haven, having been made nearly immortal by killing and consuming the essence of guiding lights like Aria Anderson and the Ripleys.

Once they had a plan all worked out, they wasted no time in putting it into action. But as they were on their way out to the car, Nathan's old pickup coasted down the gravel lane and curved to a park, blocking her in. Laura let out a sigh of frustration as he hopped from the cab, but the look flickering over his features told her he was surprised to find her here, so maybe there was still a chance of slipping away without much effort.

_Don't,_ Audrey demanded. _Let me talk to him. Please._

"That's not a good idea," Laura whispered, not moving her lips. She shielded her eyes from the strengthening sun as he made his way forward and turned to Muriel. "You go on ahead, honey. Set up the ritual. I'll talk care of this."

The old woman gave her a wry look, somewhere between bemusement and mockery. "Tread carefully, dear."

"Just go." Rolling her eyes, Laura crossed to her waiting Altima, folded her arms, and leaned back against the door to greet his approach. "Morning, Wournos. What're you doing here?"

"I actually came to talk to Muriel Bishop," he said when he reached her, at the same time shifting to indicate the old woman, who was placidly escaping in her small silver sedan. "What are _you_ doing here, Parker?"

Laura glanced out at the glistening waters, a plausible story fabricating itself on the spot before she opened her mouth. "Ah, word around town is that the seamstress is a pretty decent clairvoyant. She was next on my list to talk to about the Anderson case." She looked up then and their eyes locked. "I guess that's why you're here too, huh?"

Nathan tipped his head, studying her closely. "Guess so."

"Well, I got it covered." She started shifting her weight from one foot to the other, unable to suppress her impatience, her anxiety. "I was actually headed somewhere next. But we can talk back at the station, get some lunch."

When she tried to move past him, reaching for the car door, he caught her by the arm, stilling her. Laura's breath hitched. "Audrey," he said in a firm voice that had her nerves settling with resignation. "_Do not_ go running off again until you tell me what is going on."

_Let me talk to him,_ Audrey said again, more forcefully this time. _Laura, listen to me. Let me explain._

Indecision rippled through them, Laura's indecision. But Audrey was determined. Ultimately, the spirit gave in, relinquishing just a bit of her tightly-held control, allowing Audrey a semblance of command.

"All right, Nathan," she implored, her urgency genuine as she slanted closer, peering up at him. "There's a lot going on right now, and I don't think I have time to explain it all, but the gist of it is that I've been—"

"Possessed?"

"Yes. Sort of. It's not Aria. It's . . . well, a long story. But I was right. As wacked out as she is, Aria was only after my help. This one, too. Why her brother led her to her death, why she's back now, haunting Haven, it's all got to do with something bigger. There's this man . . ."

And all while she confessed the situation, Laura's presence was felt in the background, her disapproval tangible, her doubt strong, and her concern growing. Especially when Audrey got to the part of what they planned to do to solve it and Nathan's wary patience solidified into something more resolved but no less suspicious.

Before she could finish, before he could react, Laura reestablished control, quieting Audrey.

"So, now you know." She tucked her hair behind her ears and schooled her features into something mildly contrite. "I really should go. Like I said, though, we'll talk later."

But he caught her arm again, his expression incredulous. "You do realize that you're talking about essentially killing a man. All you have to go on is the word of some old ghosts, one of which has proven just how unstable she is. What are you thinking? Setting up a trap? When we should be concentrating on finding proof of what he's done and putting him away. You _know_ you can't do this."

_See?_ Laura hissed, exasperated. _I told you this would happen._

_Well, if you hadn't ripped me away. Let me finish._

"Wournos," she drawled, pointedly extricating her arm from his restraining grasp. "I'm sorry. But there's still a lot you don't understand."

He pulled back slightly, eyeing her with a burgeoning sense of apprehension as he tried to decipher who was who.

She took a small step forward, until she was standing even closer, and gently patted his torso with a splayed hand. "Again, sorry—but I can't have you interfering. This is too important."

Before Nathan was able to figure out what was happening, the hand she still held against his chest began to glow, and a thrill of warm energy jolted through him. Eyes rolling into the back of his head, he collapsed to the ground at her feet.

For an endless second, Audrey was shocked into silence. Then it passed. _WHAT DID YOU DO?_

"Don't freak," Laura said, bending and hooking a grasp under his arms to drag him out of the driveway and into the grass. "He'll be perfectly fine in a few hours."

_Nathan?_ Audrey tried and failed to call out to him, panic surging, overwhelming as she saw him lying there limp._ Why did you do that? I didn't say you could do that. You can't do stuff like that! What if you've damaged him?_

"Stop," Laura demanded, climbing into the Altima and starting it up. "Chill out, honey. I've done that a thousand times before. You've probably done it a few times over the course of your life as well. There's no damage. But it's your own fault. If you had listened to me and kept him out of it, I wouldn't have had to make sure he stays out of it."

_You didn't have to do that,_ she lamented before letting out a deep sigh as Laura drove away, leaving him there like that, defenseless. _Damn you._

_

* * *

TBC_


	7. SeVen Minutes To Midnight

**"_7 Minutes to Midnight"_**

**T**hunder rolled across the obsidian sky. Lightning crackled ferociously across the restless water. The electricity went down with a loud clash, lights flickering out even as the strike lit up the night, and the deep hum of a transformer blowing cut through the silence of the residential streets below.

At the very top of Hallow Hill, overlooking the jagged corner of New England coastline, there was the old Cromwell Manor. With its boarded windows and rotten weatherboarding, expansive yard of overgrown weeds and an acre of wild woodlands stretching out beyond it, the dilapidated Victorian was often quiet, isolated, untouched.

Not tonight.

It was all dark except for the faint glow of orange coming from cracks in the boarded arch window at the very top of the manor.

The antiquated grandfather clock in the attic struck a warning, not long to go until the witching hour's arrival.

The old woman lowered herself to the musty hardwood floor when the chime rang out, ignoring the protest of her creaky joints. She hunched over the altar she had created, waving a smoking sprig of sage in languid motions, tracing out the pattern of the pillar candles that currently dripped puddles of wax onto the dark oak. It had grown misshapen over the long hours of waiting, calling, working, but the silhouette remained intact—an interwoven five-pointed star.

She had chanted the required incantation so many times in succession that the words no longer sounded comprehensible. Her craggy voice was sore. Her head ached, the strain of the magic taking its toll on the entirety of her being. Yet she kept going. The subtle tingle of awaiting presences that possessed the dilapidated attic urged her on.

As the five candlewick flames flickered beneath the force of a sudden breeze that slithered through the static-charged air, Laura cocked her head to one side. A beat passed before her expression darkened in awareness.

When her voice broke through the hush, it was frayed with resisted impatience. "What is it, honey?"

The breeze of ice flared again, only to die completely, ushering in a flash of muted colors, fragmented shades of gray that made up the spectrum of Aria Anderson as she joined them. "Trouble," the girl hissed, stamping her foot for good measure as she glared. "Laurie, you _promised_."

"We all have the same stake in this, child." Laura's voice had gone as cold as the girl's breeze, too weary from Audrey's constant resistance to summon any undeserved compassion. "What's the hitch?"

Aria huffed. But the flat look she received in return squashed her impending tantrum. "We have company. _Not_ the one we want."

Muriel held her eyes shut, banishing all existential distractions to keep the spell she was weaving from faltering.

Laura glanced her way when the five flames flared high into the air once before settling again. That'd been happening sporadically since nightfall. "Keep this going," she ordered unnecessarily before shifting another look at the ghostly girl. "You behave. I'll take care of this."

"_You better_," Aria nastily retorted, only to wipe the haughty ire from her face when the woman went to whirl on her with an arched eyebrow. "I know you will."

Mollified, Laura turned her back on the cantankerous child and made her way to the enclosed stairway, descending into shadows without a backward glance. Everyone knew their part in this night. There was no need to hover.

It was nearly midnight, though. The deadline was coming up. The Gravedigger had yet to show his face, despite Muriel's siren call closing in. They were all running out of time.

But instead of staying upstairs, preparing for the clock's upcoming strike and the Gravedigger to spring their trap, she was creeping down the creaky stairs, running her hand along the rotting banister, ducking to avoid a dangling cluster of cobwebs, searching for the disturbance the child had warned of. Still, some web caught in her golden locks, but she was too distracted to bother brushing them away.

Just as Aria had claimed, there was someone inside with them . . . someone who shouldn't be here . . . someone who would stop her from doing what was necessary. She could feel him searching for her, drawing nearer. It was the faint tingle under her skin that told her who it was. Audrey was always aware of this one's proximity. Whenever he got close, she would know. And now, he was close and he wanted to stop them.

Reluctance made her movements slow, thick, faltering, because she didn't want to harm him. Laura knew he was important—to Audrey, _for_ Audrey, for Haven—but she couldn't let him get in their way, either.

"Nathan?" she called through the hollow house once she'd descended into the first floor and was easing down one of the narrow corridors. Except for the racket of the storm raging outside, the manor was impenetrably silent. "Na-a-a-than . . . come out, come out, wherever you are."

Even before she'd finished her absentminded taunt, Audrey reared up again, summoning more strength from the depths of herself and urging the invading presence out of her body. In response, Laura gritted her teeth and dug in her metaphoric heels, huffing out an angry breath of air.

It had been this way between them all day—ever since she'd been forced to drain Nathan's energy. Incapacitate a man _once_ for his own good and the woman acted like she'd committed murder.

Whatever compassion or patience Laura may have been able to muster under these trying circumstances was swallowed down by the weariness Audrey insisted on invoking. She was holding on by a fraying thread and couldn't find it in herself to not be _pissed off_. After all these years, she was _so_ close to completing her mission and finding peace. Yet every inch of progress made was met with fierce roadblocks. She couldn't stand it.

"Come now, Officer Wournos. Enough playing around, I know you're there."

A gravelly voice arose from behind her then. "Playing around?"

Laure spun on her heel to face the opening to the parlor and watched as he took a step toward her, leaving the shield of shadow. His expression was set with a grim resolve, his arms out and the aim of his 9mm steady on her. "Is that what we're doing?" he asked her, his tone tense and wavering. "Playing around?"

Laura let out a small sigh and moved into the room, wetting her lips. He countered her advance by sidestepping, keeping distance and worn furniture between them. "Nathan," she said clearly, her voice schooled with a deceptively pleasant ring. Pleasant, soft, patient. "Nathan, you don't have to do this. If you would only try to understand—"

His green eyes flashed at that. "I understand." He backed himself into an end table (knocking the rusted lamp over to crash onto the floor in the process) when she tried to come closer. "I understand what you want and I understand that I can't let you do this."

Laura stilled, showing him her hands in an effort to placate. But she couldn't help feeling another rush of disappointment. She let a trickle of Audrey seep out, appealing to what he wanted to see, hear, believe. "Nathan, please. You know me."

"No." He shook his head in obstinate denial, firming his aim on the gun when it wanted to waver. "Not really."

She took another step, this time sideways, so as not to spook him again. She needed to be closer. If she could just get her hand on him, just one touch would be enough. But he _knew_ now and he wasn't having it.

Would pleading with him do any good? She couldn't help but wonder. Could she convince him still? No. She knew the truth. So, why was she wasting time when it was so precious right now? Why not just get this over with?

_Because you can't_, Audrey whispered from the recesses of her mind. _I won't let you._

_Please understand, honey._

_No! The end does not justify the means. I know I said I'd help you but not like this. I want my body back. Now._

Laura's frustration amped another notch and she gritted her teeth again, struggling for restraint. "You know what will happen if I don't do this, Nathan." She moved another step, small and insubstantial. She'd never reach him in time. This was useless. "Why don't you want me to save myself? I thought we were friends. Don't you care at all for me?"

Audrey's sneer was palpable if not visible. _Oh, that is low_.

The gun wavered again. But Nathan clenched his jaw and steeled his hold, more determined than ever. He let her take one more step closer and he slanted to meet her, saying very tightly, very succinctly, "_You_ are not Audrey."

"No. But she's in here. And she's the one in danger." Laura tipped her head to one side, willing him to get the picture and get _out_ of their way. "I'm already dead, after all. She's the one that's going to pay the price." But she didn't bother going on because she could see she wasn't swaying him in the slightest.

Instead, she went for him, lunging swiftly across the meager remainder of distance to try to lay her hands on him—her one and only chance. Instinct took over, Nathan squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out, and the ear-splitting noise of it was swallowed up by the echoing clatter of thunder that pounded down upon the manor at that exact second, mingling sounds.

As Nathan jerked away in shock, Laura fell, whirling to the floor a moment before the blood began to pour, soaking the sleeve of the jacket she wore. He recovered quickly, shifted to stand above her, at a cautious distance, gun still halfheartedly aimed in the following uncertainty.

A few moments went by (unbearably lasting moments) of stillness, where the storm suddenly seemed impossibly deafening. But then she jolted upward, her limbs jerking with a violent spasm as she gasped in a gulp of air.

"Audrey?"

She bent, clutching at her bleeding arm and almost coughing up a lung. "Yeah," she strangled out when she finally could, trying to piece together what had just happened.

Laura was gone. When the bullet grazed her shoulder, knocking her to the ground with the velocity of the impact, a bright explosion of pain sparked through her entire body, driving the already weakened spirit out, leaving only Audrey.

"How'd you know that'd work?"

"It was a hopeful guess."

She looked up then, sending him a wry expression. "Good one."

Nathan gave her a vicarious grimace before he knelt down nearby, checking her out under a furrowed brow. "You're doing okay?"

"Hell, no!" she exclaimed, pale face scrunching incredulously at him. "You _shot_ me."

"It's just a flesh wound."

"That burns like nobody's business," she countered. "Help me stand."

As demanded, he holstered his gun and cradled her uninjured arm to haul her up to her feet. But just as her balance had settled, the room erupted into chaos.

Nails in the plywood across the bay windows went sailing across the room, pelting into framework over their heads, right before the boards themselves were projected at them, and the storm outside seemed to sweep inward with wrathful force.

Audrey and Nathan hit the deck, very narrowly avoiding collision with one of the settee sofas as it was upturned by the wind current and hurled into the dormant fireplace.

"Aria!" someone yelled, booming along the swirling wind. A second later, Laura's spirit materialized in the adjacent corridor. Loose auburn curls brushing her thin shoulders, oval face, ratty turtleneck sweater, bellbottom trousers. Even in death, she carried the Ripley beauty. "Aria, you stop that this instant. We do not have time for this."

"Oh, shove it!" the girl screeched, rattling every shutter at every window in the manor. "You're not going to tell me what to do anymore. You promised you would handle it! You're lousy! They've ruined everything! And now they're going to regret it."

Still ducking for cover, Nathan groused under his breath, "The kid really needs some new tricks."

"Aria," Laura huffed, rolling her eyes. "You're the one that's blowing our chances. Get a grip, child. I will _not_ stand for this."

After scuttling across the floor into the next room, Nathan pulled Audrey towards the backdoor at the base of the staircase. "We have to get out of here."

"What?" She hesitated, feet dragging. "But we can't just—"

"Let them tear each other apart. It's not like there's much we can do, anyway. I mean, they're ghosts for Christ's sake."

Resolve firming, Audrey tugged free of his insistent grasp. "The lady in the attic is still alive," she argued. "And as volatile as they are, I can't just walk away. If Laura is to be believed, I'm a part of this, regardless."

"We'll come back with a priest," he offered halfheartedly even as resignation rose. "Fine, you're right. Have any ideas?"

Audrey opened her mouth, words forming on the tip of her tongue because in truth she had no clue, when the manor abruptly pivoted into silence.

Nathan's eyes rolled toward the ceiling as he whispered, "Is that good or bad?"

"Bad, I think."

Moving slowly in the charged silence, he drew his gun back out, cradling it at his side. On the other hand, Audrey didn't even reach for hers. Instead, she took an unhesitating step down the hallway, wanting to catch a glimpse of the front foyer from around the corner of the rear of the staircase. But before she could, Laura materialized in her path and immediately pressed a translucent finger to her lips to hush them. Aria was nowhere to be seen. But she wouldn't have gone far.

"He's here?" Audrey mouthed. To which, Laura nodded her shimmery head, red curls swaying softly. She pointed her finger at the ceiling, gesturing up to the attic, just before her image dissolved into wisps of lingering mist, and Audrey turned to Nathan. She mouthed, "You go that way; I go this way?"

He gave her a curt nod, dismissing the impulse to protest as pointless. He watched her sneak into the kitchen, a roundabout way through the house, and then he rotated to head down the main hall, hugging the wall at his back with every inch of progression.

Audrey made it to the edge of the dining room, lowered herself into a crouch, and peered out into the main parlor without incident. But that was as far as she got.

Standing with his back to the room, local hardware store clerk Jude Larson looked out through the destroyed bay window, absorbing the scene of the stormy night that stretched beyond. He seemed to be a young man in his twenties, fresh-faced and untouched by time. His clothes were neat and his hair was kempt. Yet there was a dulled glint in his gray eyes that gave his deception away.

When Nathan eased into the center of the open entryway, blocking Jude's route to the door, and trained his gun on the other man, the Gravedigger didn't bother to move an inch in surprise. He wasn't startled at all. He wasn't even displeased. He was stoic, disinterested, but not bothered.

"Keep your hands where I can see them," Nathan warned, venturing into the room one wary step at a time, aim never wavering. "What are you doing here, Mr. Larson?"

"To tell you the truth," the young man began, his voice languid, patient, thoughtful. "I can't quite say. I was closing shop when the strangest urge came over me. I ignored it for as long as I could. But it was hopeless."

Brow furrowed, attention threatening to wander, Nathan pushed aside his confusion and steeled his intention. "All right. Put your hands on your head. We'll work this out down at the station."

"No," Jude disagreed, slowly rotating himself around to face the room at large. His glassy eyes never settled on one particular location, nearly ignoring the police officer altogether. "I don't think so. I think you should go. I'm going to stay awhile."

Nathan's frown deepened. "Hands on your head," he reiterated, advancing on the other man. When Jude didn't freely comply, he transferred his gun to a one-handed aim and used his other one to take Jude by the arm and spin him around, linking his set of bracelets onto him, while the hardware clerk remained impassive.

It was almost like he was in a trance or something, completely without volition.

"Parker," he called, lowering his weapon once Jude was cuffed. "Come on. Parker?"

Still, there was no answer.

Concern pitched, pulling Nathan's focus off the other man and willing him around to scan the interwoven web of shadowed rooms. It took more than a moment of straining his night vision to find a flash of golden color amidst the darkness.

"Sit down. Don't move." At that, he shoved Jude down into a nearby chair as he passed by, rushing to the arched opening from the dining room, where he found her slumped unconscious on the floor. "Parker!"

He knelt down beside her, holstering his gun so he could scoop her up, pressing fingers to her throat in search of a pulse. If it had been anyone else, it wouldn't have mattered. But with her, he could feel it. Her pulse was there, thready but existent, and her heart was racing in her chest at a worrying pace.

"Laura!" he yelled skyward, angry and panicked because Audrey refused to wake up no matter how roughly he shook her. There was no external head injury, no sign at all that she should be unconscious. Regardless, she was limp and unaware and her heartbeat was intensifying.

_Bring her upstairs_, a voice seemed to whisper all around him. _To the attic. Hurry._

Going on instinct, Nathan wasn't going to argue. He hooked an arm around her and started to scoop her body up off the floor before a blunt impact swiped the side of his skull and he toppled forward, crashing down to the floor beside her as everything went both black and white.

As disorientated as he was, he still sensed the movement beside him, felt Audrey being pulled out of his reach, and he tried to push himself up off the floor to intercede, but vertigo was throttling him bad.

Metal handcuffs latched around her delicate wrists before Audrey was hoisted up into the Gravedigger's arms and carried toward the door, bridal style. Her eyes were fluttering beneath their lids and incomprehensible noises were rising from her throat as she struggled to escape delirium. But the weight of pressure drowning her in unawareness was too impervious.

He made it as far as the front door, even managed to wrap his hand around the knob, balancing her precariously in his grasp, before chaos once again surged up throughout the manor.

The door swung open, knocking him backward. He stumbled, Audrey's weight offsetting his recovery, and careened into the wall of the foyer. Before he was able to regain his footing, another wind storm whipped up, slithering violently through the room, battering him away from the exit.

It tossed him onto the first landing of the staircase. And in a frustrated panic, he dragged the limp Audrey up the stairs and onto the second floor. But every doorway he neared would thrust viciously at him, swinging and banging so forcefully the doorframes would splinter.

The phantom energy was trying to tear him asunder, pulling and tearing him every which way, no regard at all to the defenseless woman he stilled clutched adamantly to.

Finally, he found himself cornered, chased up another set of stairs and into a narrowing corridor of angry darkness, until he emerged within the awaiting attic.

Muriel still lingered in her place at the makeshift altar across the center of the floor. She had risen to her feet and the flames of the candles were only growing more powerful against the vicious wind that should have extinguished them. She was chanting comprehensible words by the time the Gravedigger was flung inside, catching on hands and knees at the dark oak by the door as Audrey's body went rolling from his grasp.

"We bind you, stealer of souls. We vanquish your power by reclaiming our light. We take back what was stolen from us. We drain what does not belong to you. We leave you with nothing. We bind you, stealer of souls."

On and on she went, gaining more vehemence by the wind and the fire that lashed around her, spinning the vaulted room in hectic circles.

When the Gravedigger clambered to his feet and lunged for the door, it snapped shut in his face, nearly taking off his outstretched hand in the process. However hard he jerked at it, the slab of wood would not budge. And the wind lashed like whips at him, tearing him down again.

He was yelling over the noise, cursing and hollering at the old woman, at the relentless elements around him, but as Audrey painstakingly came to, it was nothing more than static in her ears.

Dizziness prevailed, but she managed to draw herself up onto her elbows and skittered away until her back smacked into the far wall. There, she was able to quell her initial spike of panic, because she could see that the storm wasn't meant for her this time.

The world was pandemonium around her. She couldn't make a single thing out on its own because everything seemed to be bleeding together until there was no difference.

Squinting against the havoc, Audrey caught a glimpse of shimmering light. After another moment, it coalesced into recognizable shapes. Laura, Aria, another woman as well, this one with waist-length golden hair and a familiar oval face that just _had_ to belong to the aforementioned Helena. Then there were more. At least a dozen finally appeared, translucent and wispy but definitely there.

The storm silenced with a swift death, flames petering back to normal strengths on the candlewicks and wind pivoted into calm with a sharp jolt. The man fell to his knees, doubled over until his face was pressed to the dusty floor, hidden.

A moment passed by, so brief it felt nearly nonexistent, and then the spirits surged forward, swarming around him from all directions. A raspy scream pierced her ears as she watched in abject horror, not actually able to see anything at all. That slight shimmer flared brighter than the human eye could withstand, an explosion of bright white light that swept across the attic in a warm gush, breaking apart the shadows in one quick flash.

Audrey turned her face away, shielding from the intensity, and then it was over.

When the light dimmed and she looked back, the rest of the room was empty. Shadows returned. The candlewick flames were snuffed. The ghosts were gone. And the man they'd consumed was nowhere to be found. Only Audrey remained—Audrey and the thoroughly exhausted but entirely too pleased Muriel.

Questions formed on her tongue, and her lips even parted with desire to voice them, but Audrey couldn't find it in her. All she could manage was to sit there and stare at the vacancy around her, lingering in a state of uncomprehending shock. And when Nathan finally burst through the door, gun at the ready, face drawn in a constant grimace at the pain and dizziness throbbing in his head, all she could think was: _Guess there's no chance at arresting him for Aria Anderson's murder anymore_.

Not that they had any evidence, anyway.

* * *

_TBC_


	8. Strange & Simplistic

**"_Strange and Simplistic"_**

**I**t was almost a week later when Audrey finally summoned the courage to confront the building tension that now existed between herself and her esoteric partner.

After closing the Johnny Anderson murder as _Unsolved_, and forging fabricated details on the reports for their extracurricular ghostly activities, they'd been so preoccupied with the new cases that popped up at least once a day throughout the whole week that there hadn't been any ideal time to "talk."

The day had been a disturbingly quiet one, though. The evening looked to be the same. So she couldn't let herself procrastinate any longer. She needed to stop obsessing over that kiss. To do that, she needed to soothe the simmering tension. There was so much underlying between them now, words unsaid, distracting subtext. She missed the simplicity they had originally held. And she was bound and determined to restore it.

She hadn't heard a peep from any ghosts so far and was both relieved and disappointed. Sure, things had taken a turn for the worse there at the end, but she still wished she'd had more time with Laura. There was so much about her history that she wanted to know. And she was still no closer to finding her mother.

That was a dilemma for another day, though.

Knocking proved to be useless. There was no answer. But his beaten-up old truck was parked in the drive, so she wasn't going to turn around and go home. Instead, she tried the handle, found it unlocked, and rudely ventured inside. Encroaching on his personal territory without permission should have felt awkward and wrong. But it didn't.

After a few moments of lazy searching, Audrey found him sitting on the swing that was hung on his rear deck, having a beer. He appeared to be perfectly content, just watching the sunset as a kaleidoscope of shades trickled down over the vast stretch of sparkling water.

Not sure what to do (only that she didn't want to stand there in the doorway shuffling her feet), Audrey drew in a slow breath and made her way to join him.

Nathan stilled the swing with his heel for a beat, just long enough for her to sit, before he started it swaying again, taking a long swig of his bottleneck. His far-off gaze never strayed from the line of the coast.

"So," she began, ruining the peaceful hush that had descended. "You never did tell me what happened that night I picked you up from the ER."

"Nope."

"Are you ever going to?"

He was quiet for a second, mulling over it. "Probably not."

"Should we talk then?" she wondered uncertainly. "About . . . you and me?"

"If you'd like," he drawled, still at ease. "Is there something in particular you wanted to say?"

"I don't know." She looked away then, shifting her attention out to the lapping waves. "I mean, well, I don't know." _Smooth, Parker. Real smooth._ But she couldn't seem to find any words that encompassed what she was feeling. Most likely because she wasn't sure herself. She had no idea what she was thinking.

Nathan savored another swallow of his beer, considering her very carefully without ever glancing her way. He didn't know how to bridge the chasm between them, either. Explaining it to her properly felt out of the question. He didn't know how. So he just decided to go with the one question he'd been wondering for months now and hoped it wasn't anything she never wanted to hear.

"I've been considering it in the simplest terms possible, because any more complex and I wouldn't know how to convey it."

"Yes?" she encouraged, tilting her head to look closely at him through the rays of orange light streaming passed them.

_Here it goes_. "When a man who's spent half his life almost totally numb . . . finds the one woman that makes him feel alive again . . . isn't it fate?"

Audrey leaned back against the swing, staring at him. He still hadn't looked at her. That was okay, though. The line of his body was tense, nervous, discomforted. He was as confused as she was. _I like that_, she realized. So she sat back and let herself relax, a small smile curving her lips as she turned back to the sunset. "I suppose so."

* * *

**_Finis_**


End file.
